Ebony
by Leviathina
Summary: Six months after the battle, Clint still wrestles with his guilt-ridden dreams as Loki struggles with his own past, one that continues to haunt him in his nightmares. Complications to Loki's punishment, however, stir up problems for both of them. In the middle of it all, vengeance seems to favor Natasha and another enemy seeks retribution from the one who failed them. (No Slash)
1. Dreamer

**This story was written for NaNoWriMo a few months back. It is also the first story for me to post on this site. Therefore, I apologize for any mistakes therein, as I feel my writing skill has increased since this chapter was originally written. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them. **

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It was four am in New York City, six months after the Chitari's invasion and consequential defeat. Avengers Tower stood out among the skyline, its height reaching above the majority of the buildings, superseded by few. Even now, in the dead of night, a single letter shined from just under the large balcony near the top of the tower. A simple 'A' was all that was needed for the world to recognize the home of the heroes that had saved the earth.

It hadn't taken Tony Stark long to repair the building, along with a few adjustments. It had remained rather untouched in the battle, despite being the center of the invasion force, so most of it had been left standing. Except for the window Loki tossed him through. The poor, innocent, glass window was replaced with a much stronger substitute of Tony's own making. Sure, if one was thrown at it, it would probably still shatter, but it took a considerable amount more strength to do so. He was rather proud of the accomplishment, even if it was just a window.

As for adjustments, he had quickly realized some of his teammates didn't have anywhere to go and built in nine different rooms: one for each Avenger, one for Pepper and two extra. Better to have excess than not enough they always say. The construction had been completed only a month or two after the battle, but his colleagues had trickled into the building even before it was done. Clint and Natasha had been first, joining him and Pepper only a week after. Apparently, despite Clint's great aid in the battle, Fury had made it clear it would be best to keep him away from the SHEILD bases, considering the mistrust that had grown among the agents. Fury had suggested the marksman stay at his tower, Natasha following him. Although it was meant to be temporary, it seemed like neither of the two were going anywhere.

Steve Rogers had come shortly after. Struggling to keep up with the modern world, he had often ended up on Tony's doorstep to inquire about random, but necessary, elements of modern society. It was after his third visit that Tony had taught him how to use a cell phone, and only after his seventh call that Tony had told him to just stay at the tower. Steve had already been planning to move in, but was politely waiting for the tower to be completed. However with his assistance, the construction was sped up and finished much sooner than Tony had anticipated.

As for Bruce, he had been rather confused as to what to do after the battle, initially. On one hand, he could go back to India and continue the good work he had been doing, but that would cut him off from his teammates and the modern world. Despite how afraid he was of hurting someone unintentionally, the whole tesseract fiasco had showed him how much he could help. On the other hand, SHIELD had promised earnestly to send some very good doctors with just as good medical experience to India in his place, should he decide to stay in New York, and consequentially at Avengers Tower. At first, he went back to India, but upon further consideration, moved back to New York, making him the fifth Avenger to move in. He and Tony had rapidly disappeared to the tower's lab within ten minutes of his arrival. It was about two days before they emerged again, and when they did, they spoke in such excessive scientific jargon, the others had left them alone for a while longer.

And Thor, well, Thor they had hoped to have returned by now, but nothing short of a feeble thunderstorm had even given them reason to believe he had done as such. Bruce had even contacted Jane from time to time, but she had not seen him either. He and Jane had discussed if he would return, the astrophysicist rather adamantly insisting that he would. During their discussions, she had said how Thor had mentioned something about a 'Bifrost' and how it was used to transport the Asgardian from realm to realm. She also noted how he had promised to come back to her, but had yet to do so. The two concluded that the Bifrost had somehow been rendered unusable and that Thor had found a different way to transport himself to Earth in order to confront Loki. Despite all this, Tony had still built in a room in the tower with the intention for it to be used by their Asgardian friend.

So, it was with this knowledge that, at four am, in the dead of night, Agent Clint Barton sat on his bed with his laptop resting on his legs. The screen lit up the area around him, casting eerie shadows across the various furniture Tony had deposited in his room. An empty bottle that had once been filled with water sat abandoned on the nightstand. Clint stared intently at the screen, computer humming contently. Though the sound was nearly mute, he could still here the screams and explosions from the video footage he was watching.

The Helicarrier footage. He was watching the Helicarrier footage. Again. His fingers twitched as two agents were flung over the balcony's handrail by the explosion. Fury stood and looked straight at where Clint had been perched. Fury had known. The marksman had been stationed on the Helicarrier long enough to find plenty of places to hide, but still be able to watch what transpired below. After all, He did see better from a distance. Coulson had, more than once, found him sleeping in one of his 'nests' as they had called it jokingly.

The video cut to a different room, Clint drawing in a sharp breath. Thor was in that glass cage they had made for the…other guy and Loki was standing next to the panel of buttons used to operate the cage, his hand hovering tauntingly above the one labeled 'eject'. Suddenly, Coulson appeared in the door, threatening Loki with one of the Phase 2 weapons.

Clint stopped the video, snapping the laptop closed. He knew what happened next. Loki would kill Coulson and it was his fault for leading the brainwashed agents there, freeing the trickster. Not only that, but he had nearly killed everyone on the Helicarrier when he managed to take out two of the Helicarrier's four engines, nearly crashing it. He sighed and slipped the computer to the side of the bed.

All the death, destruction, and chaos…it was his fault. If only he hadn't been so weak. He had been too weak to resist the alien mind control. He still wasn't sure whose it was. He knew he should assume it was Loki's, but it felt…different. The shining blue in the trickster's eyes had faded after the battle, just as the tint in his own blue-grey gaze had after Natasha's 'cognitive recalibration.' The glow had seemed foreign, uncharacteristic to the Asgardian he had worked for. Even the way he walked seemed different after the battle. Or maybe that was just because of the Hulk's beating. He wasn't sure anymore. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore.

Clint groaned in exasperation, rubbing his hands over his face. He bit his lip and stared out the window. Blinking in confusion at the faint orange haze hovering just over the horizon, he glanced at the clock as he slipped off the bed. Five am. He'd woken up at two…well, more like jerked awake. The nightmares hadn't let up since the battle six months ago. The first one had been the worst; Dead bodies littered around him, and his hands stained red. It had been horrible; dreaming of having no control. Last night's wasn't as bad by comparison, but still enough to keep his guilt ridden mind from being able to slip into the peace of sleep again.

The marksman cracked his door open, glancing across the three-pronged corridor one door down. Natasha's room. Talking about the nightmares had helped some and she was the only one he entrusted with his fears; the fears of being out of control of his own mind. He knew she'd have helped him that night, but yesterday had been extremely hectic and he decided to let her sleep in peace. He shook his head.

They'd known each other for so long; it wouldn't be much of a surprise if they knew the other better than they knew themselves. The nightmares that had plagued Clint weren't uncommon in their line of work and the both of them had trudged through that valley multiple times before. Their trust blossomed from the roots of their hearts and intertwined through years of watching each other's backs. They were the perfect team; a deadly duo. Two shadows combined to make an instrument of stealth and manipulation. They were assassins and they fit together perfectly.

Smiling to himself, Clint slid silently into the hallway. He brushed past the elevator, instead heading for the intricate staircase that led to the living area three floors below. Tony hadn't originally planned for a staircase to be installed, but Natasha, after listing several ways to die with the aid of an elevator, convinced him it would be a profitable addition. He'd noticed how the genius seemed to start using the stairs a tad bit more often after that particular conversation.

He hopped down the stairs, making quick work of the flights leading to the floors below. When he reached the room that had become more of a hangout area than anything, he glanced upward at the curved ceiling, smirking. The rafters in this room were amazing and gave it a much airier feel. That and he found it quite enjoyable to jump from rafter to rafter. He was in his element up there and felt oddly safe in the heights; no one could reach him there. Not that he had any reason to not feel safe here, but old scars had instilled habits that were hard to break. It had taken some convincing to get Tony to not put up the ceiling tiles, but the billionaire had eventually agreed. Even he seemed surprised at how much bigger the room felt without the tiles.

Clint absentmindedly ran a hand across the black leather of the 'L' shaped couch that sat in front of the large television. Two similarly colored, smaller couches sat nearby, all around a short, glass coffee table that doubled as a touch screen computer. The glass windows Tony had replaced ran from the base of the floor to the ceiling, overlooking the balcony and New York skyline. Two steps on the left led to a raised platform where Tony's high tech computer screens sat. On the opposite side, on another raised platform, a long table with several chairs sitting around it was positioned a few paces away from an 'L' shaped counter. The cabinets embedded above were filled with every food imaginable.

The archer strode to the glass doorway leading to the balcony. He pushed it open and stepped into the crisp morning air. It felt good to be so high up; to be above everyone else, to feel safe. Clint swung his legs over the wooden handrail, dangling them precariously above the large letter 'A' as he sat on the edge of the building. His eyes scanned the ground below. A man called for a cab and hurriedly shoved a suitcase in the back as he jumped in the passenger seat. Late for work, Clint supposed. A woman strode confidently into a coffee shop elsewhere, and a young child skipped down the sidewalk pointing excitedly at absolutely everything. What he assumed was his mother walked quietly behind, an enormous grin on her face as she watched the boy chatter happily.

Clint smirked. He could watch them all. Track their movements, and deduce their motivations by their body language. All without them knowing. It was one of the reasons he loved watching from a distance. He saw better; saw the bigger picture amongst the scattered splotches of reason and motivation. It was like a giant mind puzzle with constantly moving parts. It was a challenge sometimes, but it was fun.

His ear twitched at the sound of footsteps from the stairway, light and delicate, but with a measure of strength. He didn't bother looking back to confirm his suspicions. He knew who it was. His eye sight wasn't the only sense of his that was incredible. The glass door slid open and Clint smiled as a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

"Hey, Tasha," He greeted, eyes still roving over the ground below. He chuckled inwardly as a man dropped his donut on the ground.

"Hey," She breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her chin on his shoulder. "You were up last night."

He should've known she'd figure it out. "Yeah," He whispered. There was no need to talk so quietly, but the morning seemed so much more peaceful with the soft tones. He chanced a glance behind him. Natasha rested against him, dressed in athletic shorts and an old black t shirt with the word 'Romanoff' printed across the back. She still looked as beautiful as ever if he had anything to say about it.

"Nightmare wasn't it?" She murmured in his ear. He nodded. She knew him all too well. "You wanna talk about it?"

_Coulson's dying gasp echoed through his mind as he stared at his marred hands. An ebony arrow stuck out of the agent's chest. "No!" He screamed, his body moving involuntarily. His bow was in his hand, stained red with blood. He stared in horror at the death around him. "No!" He screamed again. It couldn't be happening again. He had no control. He was just a puppet, moving with each jerk of the strings._

Clint blinked at the memory of the dream. "I'd rather just forget about it," He muttered finally.

Natasha swung her legs over the handrail, leaning on the marksman. "You know I'm here if you need me," She whispered into his chest. "Always." He reached for her hand and grasped it tightly. The lithe spy smiled.

The orange haze over the horizon had grown much larger, a bright yellow sphere peeking out over it. It painted the sky in all different hues, similar to the flickering light of a fire. Time seemed lost to them as they watched the sun begin its course across the sky. The calm of the morning was wonderful; a balm to the excitement of their occupation.

Eventually the bustle of traffic and honking horns began to grow louder as the sky turned back to its normal hue. The whir of a coffee machine sounded from inside as the others trudged down the stairs from their respective rooms. Except for Bruce, who had come from the stairs that led to the lab. They assumed he'd fallen asleep in there by the mess his hair had become. That or he had pulled an all nighter.

Natasha ultimately strode back inside to eat, but Clint remained at his perch, choosing to mull over his dream. He still held the fears. Even after six months they still remained. His eyes rested west, where the research facility had originally been; where the whole mess had originally started. Thinking about it reminded him of the blue strings that had tugged at his consciousness when Loki touched the scepter to his heart. In those few moments he had been rendered helpless to the demands of the controller. He mentally scolded himself for being weak, even now.

It was because he was weak that he had lost control. It was because he was weak that so many lost their lives to his own ebony arrows. It was because of his weakness that Coulson had died. It was his fault and he doubted he'd ever forgive himself.

"Yo, Cupid," A voice called from the doorway, shaking him out of his musings. Clint glanced back, his expression unchanging and mind already whirring with possible names to call back to the genius. Tony held a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the other hanging casually at his side as he leaned in the doorway. "Ya gonna stop brooding out here and join us?"

The archer leaned dangerously back, watching the genius upside down with a veiled curiosity. After a silent moment passed he replied, "Nope."

Tony arched an eyebrow at his curtness, but shrugged. He turned back into the tower, calling behind him, "Suit yourself."

Clint pulled himself back up, turning his attention back toward the scurrying forms far below. He wasn't afraid of heights. He never had been, he'd found a strange solace in them, even. Far above where no one could hurt him and no one could see him. It was a strange form of safety for the archer, a safety many thought as insanity.

Someone laughed from inside the tower and Clint fought the urge to see what had instigated it. It's light, airy manner told him it was Natasha's laugh and that could only mean Tony had done something stupid, but rather amusing. As much as he wanted to fulfill his curiosity, he also didn't want to give the genius the satisfaction he knew Tony was seeking.

Eventually, the bustle of breakfast calmed down and Clint could hear each of his teammates filter out of the room. He knew one presence remained, sitting on the counter and watching him with a careful eye.

Swinging his legs over the balcony he strode back inside, meeting his partner's scrutinizing gaze. Their eyes held for a few moments, before the archer tore them away, moving to the leather couch and collapsing onto it. Natasha hurdled the couch, resting next to him.

He was content just sitting there, staring out the window with his spider at his side. She looked up into his blue grey eyes, vague worry evident in her gaze. Apparently she was not content just sitting there, staring out the window with her hawk at her side.

"What's wrong?" She asked finally and quietly with a hint of concern in her voice.

Clint regarded her for a second. She seemed tense. Anxious and worried for what he might say. He could lie, say that he was fine, but both of them knew better. She saw the tiredness in his eyes. He wasn't sleeping as much as he should be, and they both knew the reason.

He shrugged, her eyes narrowing at his nonchalance. "Clint," She said sternly, her green eyes burrowing into the side of his head. "What's wrong? Have they gotten worse?"

_He was nothing put a puppet, subject to the jerks and twists of the strings. He could do nothing to stop himself from the bloodshed he was involuntarily causing. His hands were stained red and they could never be wiped of the blood that tainted them._

Clint exhaled deeply, shifting his gaze to Natasha. Concern laced her expression, but not overwhelmingly so. She was worried; worried about _him_. He didn't deserve her worry. He didn't deserve _her_. Yet, she deemed him worthy herself. No matter how many times his guilt ridden mind beat himself up, she was always there to soothe the pain and ease the guilt. She was always there to comfort him from the fears the nightmares continually induced. She was the healing balm to his suffering.

Looking into her worried eyes, he sighed internally. There was no way he could hide it from her. One way or another she'd find out, and there was no use in prolonging it. He shifted his gaze back to the window.

"Well…," He started, stopping suddenly. He squinted in confusion at the golden haze building around the edges of his vision. His eyes widened and body went rigid as the haze grew across his entire field of eyesight. Natasha sat up, anxiety levels spiking.

"Clint?" She asked, her eyes roving over his stiff form. His jaw clenched shut and his eyes were riveted to nothing in particular.

_His eyes flicked upward again as the golden doors creaked open. He turned his attention to the crowd ahead. The murmurs quieted, but not completely so. He turned his gaze straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. _

_Some of the whispers seemed determined to make sure he heard them, though._

"Clint?" She asked again, with more force.

_"…deserves death…"_

"Clint!" She called again, louder and firmer this time.

"_…traitor to Asgard…"_

Natasha frantically waved a hand in front of Clint's face, but his eyes didn't blink, nor did he react at all.

_"…is insane…"_

She yelled again, shaking him in an attempt to stir him from his stiff state.

_"…monster…"_

The spy slapped him across the face, desperate to shake him out of his rigid dream state. Clint fell off the couch, gasping at the stinging pain on his face. He blinked in bewilderment for a moment, the last whisper echoing in his mind. A whisper he had called himself so many times since the battle six months ago. Monster.

The archer looked up at Natasha. Her face was swimming with relief. He tried to sit up, but his body didn't seem to agree. It felt like strings of ice were tugging at the back of his mind, unrelenting. With one last look of confusion aimed at the ceiling, he eased back on the ground and passed out.

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**And the adventure begins...**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated. **


	2. Anchor

**I'm unsure of my update schedule for this story. For now, expect a chapter every day until I indicate otherwise. C:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

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It was four am in the city of Asgard, six months after Loki and Thor's return. The palace stood as regal as ever in the center of the city, its bright gold sheen practically glowed from the night sky's feeble light. It was the center of activity in Asgard. It was where the royal family lived. It was where kings either stepped down or were crowned. It was where the liveliest of parties and banquets were held.

It was also where the royal court was held.

But above all, it was where the citizens of Asgard knew the 'traitor prince' was being held until punishment was to be implemented. They hadn't seen him since his return six months ago. He was isolated and he was lonely, though he would never admit it. Visits from his mother or brother were few and accompanied by the royal guards. Odin never visited. For that he was somewhat grateful. He didn't want to see the _father_ that had lied to him all his life.

Loki sat with his back resting against the edge of his bed, bouncing a ball repeatedly off the wall. The chains inhibiting his magic clattered noisily with every swing. They suppressed the warm thrum against his chest, a feeling he had come to associate with his magic. With the chains it felt choked and frantic, wondering why it could not reach out and flow through him like it had for so long. It felt absolutely wrong for it to feel so…hindered, so weak.

Shaking away those thoughts, Loki glanced around. He was in his old room. It hadn't been touched since he left it the day he, Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three had travelled to Jotunheim; the day where this whole mess had started. What had started as a prank-just a little bit of fun-turned into a recipe for disaster and chaos. That day, Thor had been banished to Midgard, Loki had learned of his true heritage, and the Allfather had fallen into the Odinsleep.

The ball stung a little more than usual when it snapped back into the trickster's hand. His thoughts wandered to the confusion that had laced his mind when the Frost Giant had grabbed him. He himself had seen what their kind had done to Volstagg. It looked like someone had taken molten metal straight from the oven and slapped it against his arm.

His eyes unconsciously roved over his own arm. The Frost Giant had stripped his arm of the protective armor and gripped his bare skin. Yet, Loki's arm had only turned the same shade of blue as the Jotun's. He reflected on the expression of his opponent. Realization seemed to dawn upon the Frost Giant, but Loki's dagger had kept his mind from going any further.

Loki sighed and tossed the ball again. His emotions had been on a tailspin after that moment; from the confusion on Jotunheim to the betrayal in the weapon's vault. Even as he hung over the abyss, Odin had disapproved of him. Even after all he had done. He had killed Laufey, in turn saving Odin's life. He had nearly destroyed the Jotunheim. He had tried desperately all his life to simply _please_ his father, but even then he had rejected him.

At least he had finally learned why in that fateful turn of events; why Odin had always disapproved of what he did, why Thor had always been favored, why he didn't even have a chance at the throne.

Why nobody had ever paid him any heed.

He glanced at the window, the sky still painted with a deep azure despite the orange haze licking at the edges of the horizon. The spires of gold were of great contrast against the night sky. Hills and mountains also stood against the blue. He idly wondered if he'd ever be able to explore those grassy plains again; if he'd ever chase the meadowlarks across the fields as he did as a child.

Loki scoffed at himself. Reflecting on the past would do him no good. Besides, his whole life was a giant fabricated lie. None of what was there had ever been true; Not the laughs at his antics, not the broad smiles of contentment when they read to him, not the calming peace he felt when Frigga hugged him good night, and not the love that had emanated from his mother.

It was all a lie. It was all a horrible, cruel lie told to him all his life.

He set the ball down and ran a finger across his arm. He opened and closed his fingers repeatedly, the chain rattling annoyingly. Looking around for a moment he spread his fingers out. A cold sensation began to form around the palm of his hand. Slowly, ice crystals formed, growing a bit larger with every second. Loki stared hard at the frozen creation in his hand. Gradually, the crystals formed bigger shapes. They looked similar to feathers.

The Asgardian stared long and hard at the dove of ice he had created in his palm. It was so delicate and eloquent, yet cold and hard; made with the same cursed abomination the Frost Giants loved. He growled at himself. The dove contradicted itself. It was a symbol of peace, but reflected the light akin to the disgraceful thing it was made of. Something so beautiful didn't deserve to be made with such a vile atrocity. At least, that's what he'd always been told.

"The Frost Giants are evil," They would say. "Their weapons of ice are deadly, cold, and hard. Their spears of ice springing up from the ground at the least expected time. They are monsters."

Loki snapped his hand shut, the dove shattering in his palm. Water dripped from his fingers, frost coating his hand. He was a monster; the creature that parents used to get their children to obey. He was the thing kids had nightmares about.

His eyes shifted back to the window. The orange haze that had been flickering at the edge of the horizon had grown significantly. Its glow spread across the sky, chasing away the shreds of night that remained. Loki stood and walked to the window, leaning against its frame in a way he would remain unseen by anyone below. He listened.

The chatter of the day was beginning, just as it had the days before. It always started at dawn. Soon, one would be able to hear the happy bustling of satisfied women and children, the clang of metal on metal as the men dueled, and the whinnies and neighs of the horses as they were led by. He heard one woman laugh at something another girl had told her. He snorted at how content they all sounded.

He gazed out the window, eyes shifting to the waters beyond Asgard. He mentally traced the bridge that led to the Bifrost. They'd been repairing the machine since Thor had destroyed it and they appeared to have made great progress since his…departure. It felt like it had been years since that had happened; since he let go, gave everything up.

He shook his head. No, that was something that could be dwelt upon later. Pacing back to the bed, Loki slipped down the edge of it and picked up the ball again, bouncing it off the wall. Then again, that is what he had told himself day after day. He didn't need to think about it. Not yet. He'd wait. He'd do it tomorrow.

But that tomorrow would never come. He would never think about it. He didn't want to. Thor and Frigga had asked on multiple occasions, but he had managed every time to twist the subject in a different direction.

Directions like the Chitari. He'd cursed those wretched creatures under his breath and with outward hate multiple times. Their horrible shrieks and threats still echoed throughout his nightmares. They'd found him after he'd fallen between the realms, exploiting his weakened mind. He'd fallen prey to their cursed manipulation in his diluted state. He shouldn't have taken the scepter, never even touched it. The instant he did his own mind was ripped in half and replaced with something else. In that instant he'd wanted nothing more than to please the Other.

Although, he supposed, had he not taken the scepter they would have either forced it upon him or brutally killed him. In a way, taking it saved his life, yet stole the lives of many others on Midgard. He wondered if it was worth it. At the time, if they had killed him he probably would not have cared. That is what he had originally intended wasn't it?

But there he went again; asking himself that cursed question. The one he didn't want to answer; the one he would answer tomorrow.

But that tomorrow would never come.

Loki jumped when something rapped against his door, his head banging painfully against the bed. Hissing in pain, he looked up at the Asgardian who had dared interrupt his train of thought.

"Oh, _you,_" He said with a half hearted taste of venom. Thor stepped in, watching the ball bounce repeatedly off the wall, snapping back into Loki's hand every time.

He arched an eyebrow, but his brother was not paying him any heed. "What are you doing?" He asked finally.

Loki glanced at him, shooting him an incredulous look. "What does it _look _like I'm doing?"

Thor glimpsed behind him into the hallway. Two guards were waiting impatiently for him to retrieve the 'traitor' as they had called him. Thor had scowled at their term, but had said nothing. There was no use arguing with them. He cleared his throat and Loki looked back at him, holding the ball with a slight hesitation.

"Father and the council have reached an agreement," He said tentatively, unsure of what Loki's reaction would be.

He simply scoffed, tossing the ball again. "Finally," he muttered under his breath, though Thor caught a slight hint of anxiety in his brother's voice.

He watched the ball bounce against the wall for a few moments, considering the trickster. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept. He gave the window a fleeting glance. The sun had risen completely above the horizon. It was about seven in the morning.

"Did you even sleep?" He blurted without thinking. He mentally sighed in relief at Loki's surprised expression.

"Yes," He muttered, focusing on the thump of the ball every time it hit the wall.

The way his bleary eyes looked told him otherwise. Thor was sure his brother could be referring to a time he slept a month ago for all he knew. He was always good at finding the loopholes in everything and anything.

"When?"

Loki just scowled, saying nothing.

There was a clink of metal in the hallway, his brother's eyes flickering to it with the faintest hint of fear. Thor sighed internally.

"We have to go, brother."

The trickster's eyes hardened at the term, but he stayed silent, continuing to bounce the ball. Thor stepped forward, grabbing it in the midair. Loki sent him a heated glare.

"Brother…"

"_Don't_ call me that," Loki hissed venomously.

Thor knelt down and grasped his brother's shoulder. When the Liesmith tried to shrug him off the Asgardian's grip only tightened. He looked his brother in the eyes. They were mostly shuttered and blank, but reflected hints of fear and regret.

"It'll be okay, Loki," He whispered.

Loki scoffed and glared out the window. Thor pulled himself up, stretching his hand out to his younger sibling. His brother stared at it tentatively for a moment before pushing himself up, the chains clattered noisily.

The two walked to the door. When they reached it the older Asgardian gripped Loki's shoulder, hoping to convey a sense of protection and strength when his brother needed it most. The trickster scoffed mentally. Thor was contradicting himself; trying to calm his brother as he led him to the consequences he was bound to face for his actions.

Thor pushed the door open and the two guards went to stand by their sides. He raised his hand and pushed one away.

"Leave us."

"But, sir…"

"Now," The Asgardian boomed. Loki watched in mild amusement as the guard nodded and scurried away with his friend. He considered his companion for a moment as they started walking down the hallway. His eyes bled with a sense of hope; as if he could get his brother back, as if they could one day have what had been before.

But Loki didn't want what they had had before. What he had in the past was nothing but rejection. Even if all that had transpired hadn't, he would still live in Thor's shadow of greatness. Even now, he probably still would and he would be remembered only as the magicked shadow in the tales of Thor's victories.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, side by side. Thor neither conveyed a sense of power and superiority, nor did Loki express any indication he was inferior or weak. They walked together, as all that the younger had ever wanted them to be; as equals.

After a while the silence was almost deafening, the only sounds penetrating their ears being the rattling chains and their shoes against the floor. Loki glimpsed at his brother; he was growing tense, as if the silence set him on edge. He felt rather at ease in the quiet. He reveled in it. Thor, however, thrived in the heat of battle, with noise echoing all around. The quiet wasn't something he could deal with for very long. So, naturally, he broke the silence.

Unfortunately, he chose the one question Loki most certainly did _not_ want to think about.

"Why did you do it?"

The trickster looked straight ahead, pretending he didn't know what his brother was talking about.

"Do what?"

"You know full well, brother," Well, he'd give him credit for not being _completely_ brainless.

His eyes narrowed at the term, but he didn't answer. Now, was not the time, nor would the time ever come.

"Brother…" Thor began again.

Loki shot him a withering glare and the Asgardian quieted, sighing.

It wasn't long after Thor's attempt at a conversation that they reached the doors to the court. Guards were stationed on either side, looking straight ahead and not acknowledging the arrival of the two young Asgardians. What was a surprise was the young woman that stood in front of the doors. The Liesmith stiffened subtly under Thor's grip at the sight of her.

His brother nodded. "Lady Sif."

"Thor," She stated. Sif glared at Loki, her eyes clearly relaying the betrayal and hate she felt towards the one who she had once considered a friend. "Loki," She finally said.

He didn't speak, but flicked his eyes over to her in a form of acknowledgement. She brushed by them, hissing in his ear, "You'll get what you deserve, _traitor_."

He mentally cringed at her term, remembering her echoing words of accusation the day Thor had been banished. They all thought he hadn't heard, but he had. She had suspected him from the beginning and he doubted she'd ever trusted him before that.

Loki's eyes flicked upward again as the doors creaked open. Fear and anxiety seemed to surge through him suddenly and he felt an odd tugging sensation at the back of his mind. He ignored it and turned his attention to the crowd ahead. The murmurs quieted, but not completely so. Thor sent him a look of sympathy. It was disgusting. He turned his gaze straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Some of the whispers seemed determined to make sure he heard them, though.

"…deserves death…"

He cringed again, internally.

"…traitor to Asgard…"

He wondered if Sif had anything to do with that one.

"…is insane…"

Well, if they were referring to his time on earth…

"…monster…"

Loki visibly winced at that one. He thought about whether or not his heritage had been shared outside the royal family. He half wished it had. It would make his actions seem a little saner.

He heard each accusation with every step he made toward Odin's throne, the council gathered around him. The AllFather's face was stoic as always, unwilling to give his emotions away. Thor's grip tightened unconsciously at the sight of their father. Loki was unsure why. Could his older brother actually be feeling some sort of protective instinct? No, that couldn't be possible. His brother would never care. He never had, so why should he start now?

The two stopped at the base of the stairs leading to the throne. Odin stood and everyone lowered themselves to one knee. Loki glowered at him, but knelt alongside his brother. He wasn't stupid. There was no reason to make the situation any worse than it was.

"Loki Odinson," The king began, the trickster's glare intensifying at the term, "You are here for crimes against the realms of Asgard and Midgard, of which I am sure you are well aware."

His eyes twitched downward and back up again. He wouldn't show weakness; Not here, not now, not ever. Not in front of Odin. He couldn't afford to look weak, to make his brother look even stronger; to make the shadow he stood in even bigger. It didn't matter much, now. Not after all he'd done, but his stubbornness would have none of it.

Odin continued his speech, listing some of Loki's crimes. He was only half listening, his mind wandering. He knew all this. There was no need to reiterate it to the public, but to shame him further. The king eventually paused, staring into his adoptive son's eyes. For once, the king's eye reflected something other than blankness.

"I'm very disappointed in you, my son."

"What a surprise," Loki muttered, glowering. He'd heard those words all his life. Now was no different.

He knew Odin heard him by the way he sighed deeply, but made no indication other than that. Lifting his eyes, the king looked out over the crowd as if he couldn't look into the eyes of the one he was about to condemn to whatever punishment had been decided. .

He spoke loud and clear, "As penalty for your crimes, Loki Odinson, I sentence you to have your magic stripped from you, and to be banished to Jotunheim until your crimes have been paid for."

His breath hitched at the words. Odin may as well have sentenced him to death. The Jotun would most certainly not be pleased to see the slayer of their king and attempted destroyer of their world. They would kill him and, without his magic, he would be defenseless against them. His death would be by his own kin.

The rest of the court didn't seem to understand the severity of the sentence. He supposed it was because Odin had indeed not told them of his heritage, making it seem like he was sending his son to his allies. Loki winced at the shouts of outrage across the court; most of those present seemed to be shouting for his head. Sif in particular appeared to be silently seething. Something hit the back of his skull and he winced, whirling around.

"SILENCE!" A voice boomed, echoing across the room. Everyone quieted, staring at the figure that had shouted. The trickster looked back to see Thor, holding Mjolnir rather threateningly, looking over the people. He idly wondered when his brother had called his weapon, but dismissed the thought as trivial.

Thor glowered over those that had gathered. He glanced back to Odin, "I believe the court is dismissed?"

"Yes," The Allfather responded. "I'd be rather pleased if you would all make your swift exit," There was a hint of warning to his tone, as if they would be injured should they disobey. The majority of the people scurried out the door, some lingering. Sif seemed to remain the longest, her eyes nearly glowing with rage.

Soon enough, though, those great golden doors creaked closed, leaving only the royal family and council left in the room. Loki shifted uncomfortably, mulling over the sentence. They were going to take his magic. And taking his magic was just adding insult to injury. It was akin to taking Mjolnir from Thor, and nobody but the Allfather had even attempted that. He might as well have been executed right then and there. It would save the time of having to send him to Jotunheim and he wouldn't have to die among monsters. Though, he supposed, he was one of those monsters as he not? Why should it matter?

The chains rattled irritatingly as he and his brother walked forward. Odin waved a hand and the council made their leave. Frigga moved to stand by her husband. His heart beat picked up, hammering madly in his chest alongside the swifter thrum of his suppressed magic, but he made no sign of his fear outwardly. He couldn't be weak; not in front of Odin.

Loki twitched his hand slightly, feeble green sparks shooting out of his fingertips and falling harmlessly to the ground. He breathed in sharply when the cuffs tightened suddenly around his wrists. It was worth it though; to just feel the flow of magic through his veins, unhindered and unconstrained. It was the most wonderful feeling. It made him feel stronger and in control. It felt, oddly right. It felt like that was what he was meant to wield from the beginning. Despite every weapon they placed in his hands since he was young, he'd never been able to wield any of them like he did his magic. It was who he was and it was what coursed through his veins.

And now it was going to be mercilessly ripped from him.

Odin made his way down to his two sons, Frigga by his side. Loki narrowed his eyes subtly. The king's eye reflected something more than the stoic disappointment that had been present before. He couldn't quite place it, but it seemed that the Allfather knew something more than what he was telling. They stopped in front of the two siblings, Gungnir glowing faintly.

"Loki, my son," He began, the aforementioned scowling slightly, "I wish I did not have to do this."

Loki's eyes twitched up and down again, scoffing. He felt not only his heart rate speed up, but even his magic seemed to course more rapidly through his blood. Through it all, Thor didn't leave his side. The trickster wasn't sure whether or not he should feel comforted or annoyed by the strong presence beside him. It put him at ease, yet instigated irritation.

He stared into his mother's eyes. They were full of regret, of what he was unsure. Maybe it was because she wished she had never called him her son. Maybe it was because she wished he had been killed alongside the Frost Giants all those years ago. Maybe it was because he was such a failure and she wished she hadn't paid him any heed after all. But deep in his heart, Loki knew Frigga would think none of those things. He would refuse to admit it, but she was one of the only people he still truly loved. He was sure she felt the same way, but would make no indication he thought so.

The trickster stiffened slightly at the king's approach. He slowly lowered the tip of Gungnir towards his heart. When it touched, he drew in a sharp breath, gasping slightly. It began to glow brighter the longer it held. He could feel the soothing energy he'd come to associate with his magic slip away, leaving him feeling cold and weak. It continued for what felt like hours, the horribly slow sapping of what might as well have been his blood.

It hurt. It hurt so badly. It felt like it would never end. The tip of the spear stung like a hive of angry bees and the tugging and depletion of his magic felt similar to a terrible poison. The pain seemed to ebb, as if there was nothing left to be taken. He figured it was done. His punishment had been finished and his magic drained from his body.

But he could still feel it. His magic was still there, not much of it, but was still there. He mentally sighed in relief at the consoling thrum of it throughout his veins. It was spread thin, but still there.

Odin tightened his grip against Gungir. The pain slicing through him as the grip and pulling on his magic tightened. He gasped in agony as the insistent tugging continued, but no matter how hard it pulled his magic stayed taut. It refused to give anymore as if it were anchored to something deep within him.

"Stop resisting, Loki," The king said stoically.

The trickster gasped in pain. "_I'm not_," He hissed through clenched teeth.

The Allfather let Gungnir drop from its position against Loki's chest. The aforementioned collapsed as the pain abruptly subsided, Thor immediately at his side. Frigga followed shortly after, Odin remaining where he stood.

"Brother," The Asgardian started, but stopped when the younger tried to feebly push him away. Loki sat up, his head swimming with dizziness. The edges of his vision seemed to be turning white and he could hear faint voices echoing from within his conscious. They certainly didn't sound like anybody he knew.

Frigga grabbed his shoulder and turned his gaze to meet her own. "Loki, what's happened?"

He blinked in confusion for a moment. The haze was starting to fill his entire field of vision. He stiffened under her grip. The voices were getting louder.

"Loki?" Thor tried, unsuccessfully, to get his brother to respond. Odin stood by, perplexed.

His eyes were riveted to a spot on the wall, unblinking. His mother shook him, but he didn't respond, his entire body rigid.

_He could make out the voices now, though they were slightly erratic. The faces were too fuzzy to tell who wore them. Two females hovered over his vision; one seemed more worried than the other. A male stood on the side, holding a vial of blood. He blinked in bewilderment._

"Loki, wake up!" Frigga said sternly.

_"…ook who's awake," The man with the vial said. Was that his blood? How'd he get it?_

His mother's eyes scanned his stiff body, Thor putting a hand on his shoulder. "Brother, cease this at once!"

_One of the females sighed in relief. "…ou okay?"_

Odin kneeled down and gently pushed his wife away. Loki's eyes were still fastened to nothing in particular; a strange haze seemed to cloud his pupils. The king touched the tip of the spear to his son's shoulder sending a miniscule shock of electricity into his body.

Loki jerked to the side and fell to the ground. Groaning, he tried to push himself back up, ultimately failing. He settled for just lying there in a pathetic heap, since that seemed like all he was capable of at the moment. Frigga reached down and rubbed his back soothingly. It was odd, how much she made it seem like she cared.

"What _was_ that?" She whispered.

He tried to speak, but his tongue seemed determined to be glued to the roof of his mouth. Instead, he mulled over what had just happened; over what it could possible mean. Both Thor and Odin appeared to want to know the answer to his mother's question as well. The older sibling sat cross legged next to his kneeling mother. It felt oddly comfortable to have both their presences at his side.

But not Odin's. His presence always set him on edge. He had to be perfect or he'd be rejected by his father. No matter how hard he tried, however, he never seemed to reach his standard. He never seemed to be the son that his father wanted him to be. Of course, the son he wanted him to be was Thor. Loki didn't think the realms needed two Thors, anyway. That would turn absolutely catastrophic.

"Brother," Thor began, the younger feeling no strength to scowl at the term, "I believe an explanation is due."

Indeed it was, but how could he explain something he didn't fully understand himself? As of right now he was wrestling with the wonderfully appealing black dots swimming around his vision; passing out seemed like such a fantastic idea at the moment. His brain was too muddled to really think clearly.

Although, could that have been a symptom of the reason his magic remained? He was sure he saw through another's eyes in those few moments. The voices seemed oddly familiar, but he was unable to place their specific origin. Perhaps his magic was anchored to the eyes he saw through. That would explain why Odin was unable to drain it completely out of him. If his magic were tethered to another creature, then the king would never be able to draw it all out.

But who on Midgard had he ever injected with his magic? Any mind control he used had been the Chitari's, not his. He had hardly used his own magic at all if he remembered correctly. Unless…unless he had used it subconsciously. Unless in his clouded state he had subserviently used it to meet the demands the Chitari had placed when their technology didn't suffice. There was only one place he could think of where that would have been required.

Agent Barton.

When he said that the Hawk 'had heart' he had not been joking. The mind of the assassin was wild and free-spirited, yet alert and perceptive. It was strong, very strong. He would not have been an easy creature to subdue. The only logical conclusion was that Barton's mind had needed more than the Chitari's mind control to be restrained and controlled. Therefore, Loki must have unconsciously pumped his own magic into the archer's mind in order to complete the deed. Then, when he was restored to his own right mind, he hadn't remembered that his magic still lay dormant in the depths of the sniper's mind.

By the time he had worked all this out his tongue had decided to loosen slightly from its death grip to the roof of his mouth. He worked his jaw a little before choking out a word.

"Anchor."

Oh goodness, did his voice have to sound that_ hoarse_? The black spots were coming back with a vengeance. He shook his head slightly to try and ward them away, but to no avail. Odin arched an eyebrow at the single word Loki had said.

Sensing that they didn't quite understand he tried again, managing to say a few things more before his head began spinning. Passing out sounded absolutely wonderful at this point in time.

"Tethered to…Midgardian," He slurred faintly. His head was pounding, determined to fall into unconsciousness. That didn't sound so bad, actually.

The king leaned back slightly, as if he understood. Thor still had the most hilariously bewildered look on his face. If his head didn't hurt so badly, he might've laughed at the Asgardian's expense. Frigga also still looked confused and looked up to her husband for explanation.

He never did hear that explanation. The black spots had finally won the war of consciousness and he drifted into the calm silence that he loved so much.

* * *

**DunDunDuuuun**

**I thought about splitting this chapter in half, but I couldn't find a good cut off point, so have the whole thing.**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated~**


	3. Calm Before the Storm

**This chapter is about 9,000 words long and I couldn't find a suitable place to cut it. Aw, well, more for you guys!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

It was four am in Moscow, Russia, six months after the reports of the Chitari's defeat. The city hadn't been impacted much by the attack, except for the overwhelming news coverage. The reports of the heroes that had saved the world had circled multiple times across the globe and the Russian city was no exception. Most had been grateful for the diverted crisis, while others had been skeptical at the idea of such powerful creatures protecting the world.

However there was at least one, who was filled with utter revulsion when the report showed up on the television.

Close to the edge of the city sat an abandoned warehouse; its old lights glowed with barely enough light to illuminate the front door. Despite this it still cast eerie shadows across the concrete and barely used road. Inside, crates were stacked row upon row, their contents unknown. The ground was dirty, covered in soot and mud from the recent storm. The roof was not in the best shape, water dripping every now and again from the creaky, rusted metal.

Off to the side, what one would call an office sat. There wasn't much to it; a desk, four metal chairs, and a television on a rotting wooden shelf. The television flickered with static, the news reporter's voice slightly warped. A blonde woman stood, glaring intently at the screen. A young man sat nervously in the corner, continually playing with his jacket sleeve.

"This was the best recording I could get you, miss," He said gravelly, eyes twitching about. The woman shifted her gaze to him for a brief moment, her eyes relaying everything he needed to now.

_His 'best' was not what she had wanted. _

He gulped subtly. "T-They took all the recordings of them off the air not long after they showed them," He reasoned feebly.

The woman strode over to the table he sat behind and leaned over it, barely a foot from his face.

"I am aware of that, Mr. Haydes," She breathed silkily. "That is the precise reason why I hired people such as you to obtain them for me."

He made to stand up, but she stared him down deeper into his chair.

"Do you have anything else for me?"

He nodded and slipped a piece of paper over to her, words hastily scrawled on it in red ink. "That's all I could get."

She regarded him for a second before turning back to the screen.

"_Reports have indicated that these 'Avengers' have begun to congregate at the former Stark Tower. It is speculated that all six of these heroes will eventually reside in this building as a symbol of hope and peace for the world."_

The woman scowled and spit at the ground below the television. "Hope and peace," She muttered. "How can they expect something so civil from such vile creatures…?"

The young man stood abruptly. "If that is all you will be needing, I will make my leave now, Miss."

She smiled, not the rewarding 'you've-done-good-have-a-cookie' kind of smile. She smiled one of those venomous, deceptive, 'I'll-kill-you-in-your-sleep' kind of smiles.

"Yes," She murmured, her hand sliding to her hip, "You are no longer needed."

He seemed to process those haunting words two seconds too late as a loud gunshot cut off any words he was about to say. He slumped to the concrete floor, unmoving.

The woman holstered her gun and slipped on her jacket, grabbing a duffel bag from the corner of the room. It made a clanking sound, as if it were filled with metal. She took another look at the television.

A shot of a red haired woman fighting beside Captain America from what seemed like a security camera was plastered on the screen.

_"It can honestly be said that we owe our lives to these heroes."_

With a heartfelt look of absolute abhorrence, the woman raised her gun again and shot the screen, shattering it and the recording. She promptly marched out of the warehouse, duffel bag in tow. She slid into a small black Sedan and drove away.

The police would find the body of Jacob Haydes two days later. Within twenty-four hours, the case would be taken over by a shadowy organization known simply as SHEILD. Only one hour after would two certain SHEILD agents be tasked with a mission in Moscow.

And it couldn't have been timed worse.

* * *

Natasha Romanoff was rarely afraid. She was capable of portraying fear; a tactic she used often when she allowed herself to be captured in order to obtain information. It often lulled the enemy into a false sense of security. This false sense of security let things slip, important things. Things like locations, names, and motivations slipped from the enemy's tongues more easily when they felt at ease.

But the famous Black Widow rarely felt true fear; the unbridled, panic-inducing, true fear. She rarely felt much of anything; she'd learned long ago to control her emotions. She'd learned to contain them and ignore them. However, sometimes, those emotions spiked so high they were impossible to ignore.

Today was one of those times. Her eyes roved over her Hawk. He lay on a medical bed, unconscious since the event that morning. When the others had hurried back up to the living room after her frantic shouts at JARVIS, they had been prepared for anything but what they saw.

What they saw was Clint lying in the floor in a passed out heap, Natasha shaking him violently. The lithe spy smiled darkly at the first words that had come out of Tony's mouth.

_"Did you finally kill him?"_

They were ill-timed and anger inducing as always and the billionaire would be nursing a bruise to his shoulder for the next week or so. She'd stepped away when Bruce had asked. Steve had showed up a few minutes later. Bruce had checked his vitals, pronouncing he was perfectly fine, but was suffering some form of trauma to the head. The glare she sent Tony before he could say anything would've sent normal men cowering into a corner. They had taken their archer to the medical area and that is where he'd been for the last few hours.

And through it all Natasha had never left his side. She knew if it had been her, he would've done the same. She was not about to disappoint her Hawk. He needed her and she needed him. Nothing would change that; not a ledger dripping with red, not an alien race invading their mind, and most certainly not head trauma.

She heard the door slide open and delicate footsteps make their way to her side. She glanced up at Pepper, who seemed oddly worried. Why should she care? She hardly knew Clint.

"Is he doing okay?" She asked, eyes roving across the medical equipment Bruce was working on. He had a vial of blood in one hand and was staring at it with a microscope.

"He'll be fine," Bruce murmured. "Right now we're more concerned about what caused all this."

Natasha nodded, Pepper pulling up a chair to sit beside her. Her company felt oddly comforting. Being the only female in the Avengers had its drawbacks, but Pepper's presence had balanced it somewhat. She'd at least been given someone to talk to, someone who could relate better than any of the guys could. She was actually somewhat thankful for the cheery CEO of Stark industries. The woman did her job and she did it well.

"Look who's awake," Bruce said, smiling.

His words jerked her out of her musings and she jumped to the bedside, Pepper standing up beside her. Clint blinked in bewilderment, before his eyes met hers and he seemed to instantaneously snap into being alert. He'd always been like that. He'd wake up and be immediately aware of everything around him. It seemed to be a trait the assassins shared.

"Are you okay?" She blurted, sighing in relief.

The icy tugging at his brain had remained as he awoke, sudden fear coursing through his veins when he didn't immediately recognize where he was. The fear and tugging subsided when he saw his spider, smiling in relief. He pushed himself up; more successful than the last time he had tried it.

"'m fine," He muttered; his head swimming faintly with dizziness. He thought back to the dream like state he'd fallen into. The words had been warped and muffled, but still clear enough to make out. The last of which seemed determined to continue echoing in the back of his head.

Monster. He supposed who'd ever said it had been right. He'd been a monster with no control six months ago and the archer was sure he was too weak to resist any other controller that would turn him into another one; another merciless killer, blind to the screams of his victims. He'd been that creature before and he never wanted to go back.

He flicked his eyes over to Natasha, who was leaning over the side of the bed. She seemed relieved at the sight of him, yet her eyes swam with confusion. She leaned in farther and pecked him on the cheek, smiling warmly. "What happened?" She muttered.

Clint wasn't quite sure if he knew himself. He bit his lip, eyes turning to the ceiling in thought. Reviewing what he could remember from what he'd seen he could only conclude one possible thing.

"I saw through someone else's eyes," He stated confidently, shifting his gaze back to his spider. Bruce glanced back at them, scribbling something down on a pad of paper.

She eyed him thoughtfully. "Who's?"

Leaning back, the archer pondered over the sights he'd seen again, trying to determine who he knew that would see what he was seeing. The doors he'd walked through had been enormous and made of gold or something similar to it. The room had been filled with many people, none of which dressed in clothing from their own era. The way they were seated implied they had gathered to watch something. Their accusatory words had been aimed at him. They had parted so he could walk through, as if he were the main attraction; as if he were what they had come to see.

He deduced the place he'd been had to have been rich and lost to time and the eyes he'd seen through were guilty of some crime by the people's admittance. There was only one place he knew of that fit that criteria and only one person who was from there that would be accused of being a monster.

"Loki's," He shifted uncomfortably. Why in the world had he seen through the trickster's eyes? He had no control over him anymore. Had the Asgardian's influence stretched deeper than the cognitive recalibration could deter? A faint spike of fear shot through his veins at the thought; the thought that he was still being controlled, still weak.

Natasha stared intently into his eyes, the faintest hint of worry clinging to the edges of her gaze. She swallowed thickly. "Are you sure?"

He nodded solemnly. The spy leaned backward, exhaling deeply. Bruce looked up from where he was working, spinning his chair to consider the pair of assassins. They were a strange duo, denying love, yet unable to leave the other's side. He was sure the both of them, deep down, knew how the other felt. He supposed they saw love as weak, a liability and hindrance in their line of work. That must be why they denied it, avoided it. But the way they looked at each other, the way they longed for the other's presence, betrayed their feelings more clearly than any words ever could. The Widow and Hawk were in love, by his deduction, but whether or not they would admit it, or even knew it, had yet to be determined.

He directed his thoughts back to the problem at hand; figuring out how Clint was able to see through Loki's eyes.

"How?" He asked warily, hoping the archer wouldn't dance around the question for fear of exploiting hidden weaknesses.

Clint sat up, slipping off the bed. Bruce made no effort to stop him. Medically, the sniper seemed perfectly fine. What he was worried about was the psychological injuries wreaking havoc through his mind. The scientist knew their Hawk had been mentally damaged after the attack, but he never had had the chance to assess the damage himself.

"I'm not sure," He replied, pondering over what could possibly have instigated the transition. Pepper smiled at him, nodding in acknowledgment, before stepping out.

"Can you describe what you saw?" Natasha asked carefully, hoping what he'd seen hadn't been anything horribly traumatic. He'd been seeing through Loki's eyes after all and she had no idea what the trickster had been subject to.

Clint relayed what he'd seen, adding in his thoughts on the possibilities of what some of the structures could've been. All the while, Bruce faithfully scrawled everything he said on his notepad. The lithe spy was thankful that her Hawk had not been subject to anything unsettling, but was confused somewhat over his explanation.

"You mean it's taken Thor's father six months to find a suitable punishment for that monster?" She said venomously.

The archer shrugged. "I'd guess he wasn't the only one making the decision."

Bruce interrupted them, as if he hadn't heard their conversation. "So did you feel anything when this all happened?"

Inclining his head in thought, Clint vaguely remembered a tugging at the back of his mind. It had been akin to icy strings of threaded energy pulling at his consciousness.

"Yeah," He muttered. "There was this pulling at the back of my head, like something was tugging at my mind."

"Did it hurt?" The Widow asked, a bare hint of worry edging her voice.

He shrugged. "It felt like someone dumped a hive of angry bees into my head."

She cringed at his statement. Despite all their years of dealing with anti-interrogation, pain was still pain. And pain still _hurt_, no matter the circumstances. They'd come to learn how to hide their pain, though. They were able to channel that agony and use it for their own purposes. Such abilities did not come lightly, however, and they both knew what it took to get to that point.

"Was there anything else?" Bruce wondered, scrawling on his notepad.

He thought for a second, but shook his head. The scientist nodded and turned back to his microscope. "There's nothing strange in your blood levels, and all your vitals seem fine. Whatever caused this phenomenon was probably on Loki's end," He muttered thoughtfully.

"Wonderful," Clint groaned. That was all he needed; to deal with the source of his nightmares, the one who'd proven how weak he was.

There was a curt buzzing before JARVIS's voice penetrated the room. "Agents Barton and Romanoff, Directory Fury is on the line for you."

Natasha sighed, "We'll be right there." She nodded at her partner and they both waved goodbye to Bruce. He nodded back in acknowledgement.

The two sprinted out of the room, half racing each other up the stairs. When your best friend was an assassin, your definition of fun tended to lean toward competition and the two agents were both of competitive spirits. Everything ended up turning into a twisted sort of game, whether it be who could complete a mission with the most bullets left or who managed to cross the imaginary finish line first. Often it was turned into a game, but they were both able to sober up to a situation in an instant, forsaking their strange version of 'fun.'

It ended up that the lithe spy made it to the living room floor first, where the high tech computer was situated. The archer made it there not one second later, claiming she had tripped him. He was right, of course, but with a bat of her eyelashes and a peck on his cheek all was forgiven. Tony waltzed up to them, a hint of franticness to his tone.

"Would you both get over there! Fury looks like he's ready to have my hide for the _incident _last week," He said urgently, eager to get the director of his tail.

They both knew of which occasion he spoke of. The incident had only nearly compromised several undercover agents in Vinh Long after a rather unruly publicity stunt of his. Needless to say, they had managed to get the situation under control and Tony had been already thoroughly scolded by the two SHEILD agents in his company. Unfortunately for him, Fury seemed more than apt to giving the billionaire a piece of his mind as well. That, to him, seemed like an idea he would avoid for as long as he could possibly manage. So far he'd been able to dodge it for the span of a week, but his escape tactics were proving more and more futile as time went on.

Natasha laughed darkly at his expense, brushing by him, her Hawk at her side. The two strode up to the multiple screens that were positioned above the holographic keyboard. Clint leaned over and clicked two keys, a video feed of the Director popping up alongside a sound monitor. The monitor pulsed with every word Fury spoke.

The Director nodded at his two most renowned agents. "Hawkeye. Black Widow," He stated curtly.

"Director Fury," Clint said with the same tone. Natasha nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'm going to ignore the circumstances of this morning," He replied abruptly, "as Dr. Banner has confirmed you are physically adept for active duty, Hawk."

Clint simply nodded, affirming the director's statement.

"There is a situation in Moscow," His gaze automatically met Natasha's, her body stiffening slightly at the Russian city's name. "Jacob Haydes was found dead in a warehouse on the edge of the city after hacking and stealing some of the government's protected files. For lack of a better term, he appears to have been disposed of."

The archer scowled. That was a nice way of saying the guy had been killed when he was no longer needed. It was a sick practice, but a practical one; the fewer people that knew your face the harder it was to get caught.

The director continued, "I need you both at Moscow as soon as possible. We believe the man behind this is also responsible for some new, highly effective drugs. I'm sure you both know what I'm talking about."

Natasha blew out a long, deep breath. That could only mean one thing; drugs used for assassinations. If a new drug could be created and used for a kill, then SHEILD or any other organization wouldn't be able to recognize the toxin in time. By the time they were able to identify it, the killer would be long gone, their mission complete, and no one would apprehend them. It was as efficient as sniping and held just as much secrecy as the archer's preferred kill method.

If they were to deal with this high class drug dealer, they'd have to avoid any and all serums, vials, liquids, and pills. Darts were silent however, and she relied on Clint's ridiculous eyesight and hearing to spy any of those before it could hit. Drinks appeared harmless enough, but the lithe spy was acute to noticing the slight differences in behavior that would indicate a spiked glass. Together they would be unstoppable. They were the perfect team and they proved it by how well their strengths made up for their other's weaknesses; akin to two puzzle pieces scattered far across the table. No matter how different they were, they still fit together.

Clint crossed his arms. "Wheels up?"

"You've got two hours."

The two nodded simultaneously, the archer reaching forward to end the call.

"Oh, and one more thing," Fury interjected.

He looked up from where he was leaning. The director was smirking. "Tell Stark he's got twenty-four hours to come up with a good enough excuse for the incident last week."

Smirking, Clint nodded and clicked a few keys, the screen going dark and swirling back to the screensaver of a car Tony owned.

The pair of agents turned and began walking to their respective rooms. The lithe spy scanned her partner who had only ten minutes ago been lying on a medical bed, unconscious. Now, they were both flying half way across the world to her mother country, off to fix the problems their enemies had stirred up. They'd done it a hundred times before, sometimes solo and sometimes with others. Most of their missions in the past, however, they'd been accompanied by Phil Coulson. Even after the battle and the missions they'd gone on in those past few months; it still didn't feel right to not have the older agent on the other side of their comms. It never would feel right, she was sure.

But that wasn't the only thing that felt wrong. Somewhere deep in her gut, something felt amiss. Maybe it was the sadness that had been rooted when Coulson had been killed. Maybe it was her return to her homeland, a place that stirred up memories both good and bad. Or maybe it was the fact that Loki was still inside her partner's head.

Glancing again at Clint, she decided it was the last one. When Coulson had told her he had been compromised everything within her had froze. It had then turned into a boiling pot of well tuned rage used to dispose of her 'captors.' Even now, seeing the pain in his eyes that morning had induced an aching pain within her own heart. It wasn't love. Love was for children. The things she felt for the marksman were purely based on who he was. He was all she had left in the world. Sure, the rest of the Avengers she now considered a part of her family and Pepper was as good a friend as they came, but the deep integration the two agents had created between each other through the years of pain and growth was something different. It wasn't love, but they still protected each other, felt for each other, and knew each other better than they knew themselves. That's what partners did and that was what they were; partners and nothing more.

"Are you okay?" She flicked her eyes in Clint's direction, his words jarring her train of thought.

She nodded, "I'm good," She muttered, shrugging. She looked him up and down, the morning's events playing through her head again on fast forward. She narrowed her eyes. "But are you?"

The archer stopped in front of his door. Natasha walked a few steps more towards hers, but continued watching him for an answer. He knew exactly to what she was referring. He also knew that he was perfectly fine. Other than what had happened earlier, there was no other indication that anything could possibly be wrong.

But something _was_ wrong. There was something inside his head; something he thought had been disposed of six months ago. But it was still there. It should be gone. It should've been over and done with when the portal closed.

And yet, the trickster still seemed determined to stir up trouble.

"I'm fine," He insisted, though the words didn't sound convincing at all. Clint was sure his Spider would pick up on it. She would question it and pry through his brain to reach the truth. She would only need her words to get what she desired, and what she desired was the truth.

But she didn't. She didn't inquire further, yet shot him a dubious look. It entailed exactly what they both understood; she knew full well he wasn't fine, and _he_ knew full well he wasn't fine. She would get the honest truth from him soon enough, but she seemed to feel he wasn't ready to talk about it. That was good; because the archer was sure she was right. The nightmares he was plagued with seemed like a miniscule precursor to the realization that Loki was still in his head. He was still capable of being a monster; a monster held by the strings of his master. He was always capable of that. He hated that path. He'd tread something similar to it before and it was nothing short of horrible isolation and weakness. Though no one had held the strings but himself, those memories were of things he wished to forget.

He'd never forget, though.

Natasha stared at him with another doubtful glance before slipping into her room. Clint slid into his own room with the silence he was so capable of. Grabbing a duffel bag he carelessly threw it onto his bed, shoving the random pieces of clothes inside that had previously been scattered across his floor. Tony had given him a dresser, but he never used it. It was easier to find things when you could see them all in plain sight anyway. Pushing the closet door away, he stared at the racks of various weapons that lined the closet walls. He didn't use this thing for clothes either. With more care and much more consideration than he'd used for his previous travelling items, Clint deposited a pair of Desert Eagles, and a dagger he'd gotten from Vienna into his bag.

Pulling his bow off its place against the bed, he slipped his quiver into its place against his back. Strapping another knife to his belt and slipping a smaller one into a strap against his shin, Clint lifted his bag and tossed it over his shoulder.

He strolled out of his room at nearly the same time as Natasha. One look at her bag told him they had packed in a scarily similar fashion; throwing clothing in at random, but choosing weapons with care. She arched an eyebrow at his bag, apparently noticing the same thing. He laughed and she smiled warmly, sauntering over next to him. With a peck on his cheek, she raced down the stairs before he realized their race had started.

"Hey, unfair advantage!" He called, darting after her. As she jumped down the stairs, skipping two at a time, he reached the top of them that led to the living room. Bracing himself against the railing, he pushed himself over and above it, effectively skipping the majority of the staircase altogether. Landing in a heavy roll, he pushed himself up, ran to the seating area, leaped over the couch, and sat back into a relaxed position so quickly if one had blinked they would've missed it. Natasha reached the seating area one second later with an accusing grin.

"Who has the advantages now, circus boy?" She teased.

Clint pointed an accusatory finger at her, smiling, "Hey, you could've done that too, if you wanted to!"

She rolled her eyes, but her smirk betrayed the gesture. She dropped her duffel bag next to his, glancing at the high tech digital clock Tony had situated on a table. It was three-thirty in the afternoon, meaning it was about the same time in the morning at their destination. They'd leave at five and the flight would take somewhere near nine hours. So they'd get to Moscow at two o'clock in the afternoon tomorrow. It wouldn't take them long to get themselves situated, years of practice attested to that. Optimistically, they'd be back in the states within a week.

The archer leaned back farther into his chair, looking perfectly content. She crossed her arms, deciding to tease him with one of her superior strengths.

"Ваш русский ржавые, ястреб?" She asked teasingly_. (Is your Russian rusty, Hawk?)_

He glanced up at her, smirking at her antics. He knew what she was trying to do. Get him to slip up at her own native language. "нет," He denied. _(No.)_

"В самом деле?" She questioned, arching an eyebrow. "Вы уверены?" _(Really? Are you sure?)_

Clint nodded, leaning forward to tap on the coffee table's surface. "Я уверен, что он никогда не будет так хорошо, как ваш, мой паук," He smirked, knowing the flattery would serve its purpose. A computer screen appeared on the table, various windows opened around it. _(I'm sure it would never be as good as yours, my spider)_

She scowled, though her eyes still shined with the amusement they had teased with before. With a good natured punch to the archer's arm she grinned. "И моя цель никогда не будет таким точным, как свои собственные, мой ястреб." _(And my aim will never be as accurate as your own, my hawk.)_

He bit his lip as he raced to find a way around the compliment. Once again they'd found a way to make it into a game, even if the game only ended up being a way to practice their Russian. Or Clint's Russian. The marksman was positive the lithe spy had no need to practice her native tongue.

Rolling his eyes upward in thought, the archer responded, "Моя цель состоит только так хорошо, как мои глаза." _(My aim is only as good as my eyes.)_

"И ваши глаза удивительные, соперничать только серо-голубой небо после грозы," She purred in his ear as he scrolled through the random things Tony had left open on the table top computer. _(And your eyes are amazing, rivaled only by the grey blue sky after the thunderstorm.)_

He blinked, slowly trying to figure out what she had said. He'd caught most of it, but didn't quite understand what she had likened his eyes to. "гроза?" He asked finally.

She laughed. "Thunderstorm," the lithe spy supplied helpfully.

The archer smirked, storing the word away into his memory for later use. Natasha strolled over to the kitchen, pulling out diverse items of snack food. Walking back, she dropped half of it into her bag and slipped the other half into her partner's.

"Why did Tony leave _this _open?" Clint asked, mostly to himself, as he gestured to an article about the importance of grooming and bathing your dog weekly.

Natasha glanced over the couch narrowing her eyes at the screen. "I swear if that man brings one of those panting собака here, we will have words." _(dog)_

She didn't mean words. She meant something more like a fist to the gut or an electric shock at an unexpected time. They both knew that, but JARVIS didn't, so she made no effort to explain herself further.

"What'd you say about me?" A voice echoed from the staircase that led to the lab. Clint flicked his eyes over in that direction. Tony climbed up the stairs, a towel slung over his shoulder. For someone coming from the lab, the genius looked a lot like he'd just been flung out of a vehicle at its highest speed. His clothes were dirty and covered with soot. There was a gash above his eye, which he was diligently holding a pad to.

"What happened to you?" The archer asked, smirking.

Tony smirked back. "I asked my question first."

"Well my statement about you was a question, so technically I asked mine first."

"Yeah, but I need to know the previous statement, which is the answer to my question, to answer both your questions."

"I'll tell you my statement when you answer my second question," Clint stated triumphantly.

The genius rolled his eyes and acceded. "Fine. I was trying to fuse Barium, Cobalt, and Nitrogen, but the compound didn't work out as well as I'd hoped and it exploded in my face."

Natasha snickered quietly from her perch on the couch. It wasn't the first time Tony had walked out of the lab covered in burns or soot. Most of the time he blamed the reason on faulty equipment or faulty lab partners. When he actually admitted to his own blunders it was usually because there was no other excuse; the outcome of such situations tended to be rather humorous.

"There's your answer," He replied, choosing to ignore the spy's amusement at his expense, "Now I expect mine."

Clint shrugged, "I just wanted to know why you left a window up on your computer about dog grooming."

Tony looked confused for a second-amusingly in fact-before realization lit up in his eyes.

"Oh, that's Pepper's. She wants to get a dog and I told her there was no way I'm letting an animal in this tower."

"Good," Natasha muttered, the threats she had been planning towards the genius fading.

He seemed to perk up at the spy's approval. "Would you tell her that it's not a good idea so she gets off my back about it? She'll listen to you."

The lithe spy kept her expression emotionless, but her eyes seemed to smirk with a teasing tone. She answered without emotion, "Nope."

He groaned and tossed the pad he'd been holding into a trash can, the blood having clotted enough to warrant it unneeded. "Aren't you guys supposed to be on some super secret spy mission?" He asked, striding over to the plethora of screens over the computer on the other side of the room.

"We leave in a few hours," Clint supplied, standing from his spot on the couch and tossing the rafters above a longing glance. With Tony's back turned he silently slipped over to the wall, his partner pretending as if she didn't notice his movement. He gripped the indented edges of the wall and soundlessly pulled himself up. Using the elevator's door frame as a foothold and a concave light fixture as a support, he pushed himself up to where he could get a grip on the lowest part of the rafter. Once he had a grip on it, the archer lifted himself up and onto it with little effort.

Tony clicked a few keys, his company's stocks in one window and a video feed that appeared to be trying to connect to somewhere in New Mexico in another. Balancing with relative ease, Clint crept along the arched, wooden rafters. He had to admire the genius' architectural design. It really was rather amazing. Crouching, he leapt from his rafter to the one next to it; one rafter closer to the oblivious man that worked at his computer. All of Clint's movement had taken him less than thirty seconds. Natasha threw him a glance from her spot at the couch, smirking.

"Don't you guys have something better to do than to lounge around and mess with my stuff?"

He watched his spider shrug nonchalantly as he jumped to another rafter, getting closer with each leap. She stretched and stood from the couch. "Yeah," She answered casually, striding over to where he stood. Tony frowned at his screen at the static on the second screen, enlarging it. He tapped a few of the keys and flicked between several different windows covered in binary.

Clint watched from above as his partner watched beside. This was how they worked, one watching the other's back. Often, the archer was the one that would linger behind as the lithe spy worked in closer quarters to their target. It was how they operated. Natasha worked best near her enemies, gaining their trust and manipulating them out of their information. On the other hand, he worked best from a distance, reading the lips of his oblivious targets as they spilled information they thought no one was around to hear or see. They fit together perfectly, the strengths in their styles of attack making up for the weaknesses in the other's.

He leaped over to the rafter directly above his unknowing 'target'. Smiling to himself, he lowered to a crouch.

With a few more clicks, the static finally dispersed as the video feed finally connected. Glancing at the woman beside him, Tony shifted uncomfortably, knowing full well what she was capable of. Her silence and apparent curiosity at whatever he was doing was rather unnerving. It was unnerving because of how he'd seen her take down her targets in the footage he'd hacked from SHEILD. (Hey, he just wanted to know more about his team mates, that was all.) It started with a veil of innocence, but once one's trust was given to her and what she came for was received, the Widow would turn into a cold, hard killer.

That discomforting feeling was what he blamed when he jumped at the sound of the voice from the video feed. Natasha eyed him warily when he calmed himself. He hissed under his breath for letting the Russian unnerve him so. He was Tony Stark for crying out loud! He could handle himself.

He directed his attention back to the screen, a bright face shining with twinges of hope stared back from the video feed. Small twitches of static crossed the edges every now and again, as the girl eyed the surroundings her companions were standing in. Smiling brightly she looked Tony in the eye and said, "I assume you are Tony Stark."

The genius nodded. "The one and only."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but at the girl's inquisitive expression she responded. "Agent Romanoff, from SHEILD. And you?"

The girl's smile faltered for the briefest of moments at the agency's name, but returned to its previous brightness a second after.

"I'm Jane Foster," She replied. "I helped Thor when he was banished here."

The lithe spy took note of the various high-tech looking machinery behind Jane. She also noticed a slightly weary look edging around her eyes. It looked similar to Clint's, and he hadn't been sleeping nearly at all for the past few weeks.

She shifted in her seat. "And I, uh…I was just checking in to see if you'd heard from him," She stated, hope practically saturating her voice.

Natasha glanced at the genius beside her, tossing the slightest of glances upward to where she knew her Hawk was perched. "Not necessarily, but we've had a...an encounter with Asgard you could say."

Jane seemed to perk up at the spy's words. "What kind of encounter?"

It was at that moment that Clint decided his target needed to be disposed of. Crouching from his position he pushed off, landing on top of Tony; the aforementioned letting out a scream that sounded quite feminine. The archer wrapped his arms around his target's neck, wrestling him to the ground with a dark laugh. Tony, quite indignant by now, tried to push him away, growling like an angry dog. Laughing in a disturbingly sinister way, Clint rolled off his 'target' and flipped into a backwards somersault in order to push himself up and back onto his feet.

Tony sat where he was on the ground, eyes wide with shock and hands groping for something to pull himself up with. The archer reached out a hand, smirking, but the billionaire pushed it away with a glare.

Natasha watched her partner's antics, throwing a glance at the screen. Jane seemed to be shocked at first, but now appeared to be barely containing her laughter. She smirked, giving her partner a subtle thumbs up. He grinned back.

When Tony managed to finally get himself up, he glared at the marksman. The genius glanced upward at the rafters that were no less than twenty feet above him. "How do you even get up there?!"

Choosing to keep his acrobatic route to the rafters a secret, Clint nodded at Jane. The woman seemed about ready to burst into laughter, but had calmed down some. Pretending none of the previous events had just transpired, the archer responded to the previous question Jane had asked.

"I'm the one who had the 'encounter,'" He stated, the four of them sobering.

The young scientist seemed eager to hear everything he had to say. With a slight hesitation bred from years of sticking to the shadows and keeping your information hidden, Clint relayed all he'd seen to her. She seemed slightly disappointed that he hadn't directly seen Thor, but he assured her that he was positive the Asgardian had been present. He simply had been out of sight, perhaps behind or beside Loki when the archer had seen through his eyes.

When the marksman finished retelling his story, Natasha glanced at the clock ticking contently away in the corner of the screen. They had to go soon to be at the SHIELD base in time. She tugged gently at her partner, relaying the information with her eyes. He nodded, the two turning to leave.

"Hey!" Jane called after them. They both turned simultaneously, the sniper arching an eyebrow. She smiled warmly at them, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you," She whispered, loud enough for both of them to hear.

He nodded, face stoic. "No problem." He could see why Thor thought so highly of the woman. She was bright and intelligent, yet feisty and strong. The Asgardian was lucky to consider such a vivacious woman as his friend.

As the two grabbed their respective duffel bags, Clint glanced back at Tony. The billionaire was chatting with Jane. The words he could hear and read from their lips were of a greatly scientific and technological manner. They were talking in that confusing science jargon usually only shared between Bruce and the resident Iron Man.

Smirking as they headed towards the stairs, the archer called back. "Hey, Tony! Twenty-Four hours!"

The billionaire stared back in confusion for a moment before realization seemed to cross his features. An expression that was a cross between dread and mischievousness was plastered on his face. When he turned back to Jane their conversation quickly turned towards how to make the best excuses.

Natasha brushed past him at the top of the stairs, lightly pecking him on the cheek. He smiled warmly at her, but it soon turned into good natured competitiveness as they raced each other down the stairs in a frighteningly violent manner. Any normal person might've been mortally injured had they ran that race. Clint skipped over flights of stairs by leaping from the outside railing to the respective one below. It jarred his ankles, but that was a pain he dealt with enough to know how to ignore. His partner, however, seemed to be using a slightly more lithe approach, slipping through the railings and gracefully leaping from one to the other.

At one point the Widow jumped from her perch and landed on her Hawk's back. With a purr in his ear and a kiss on his cheek she vaulted off him and landed a flight below. Yes, any other person who saw this transpire would be horrified by the dangerous game they'd made out of simply going down the stairs. But the two agents were anything but normal. They may have been human with no outrageous powers or technology like their colleagues, but they were unnaturally good at their skills. Perfect aim and perfect manipulation seemed to fit together in an almost scarily perfect way. They were a team; an unstoppable one.

Despite all the pain they'd gone through, they'd gone through much of it together. The pain had only made them stronger. It had only made them more resilient. The bond they shared was something that no one could easily break. Clint was sure not even Thor's hammer could do anything against it. But it wasn't love; love was for children. They were partners; that and nothing more.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Clint had situated himself in the pilot's seat of one of the SHEILD quinjets, Natasha in the co-pilot's seat. The two agents had been debriefed more thoroughly on the situation when they arrived at the base. The lithe spy currently held her copy of the brief and appeared to be skimming through it again.

He glanced at his spider. With her feet propped up casually on the dashboard and her hair thrown up in a ponytail, she seemed over all content with their position. Missions were fun and often were turned into a twisted game, but nothing compared to the lull of calm between the storms they were sent out to combat. He glanced to the back where Coulson would've been sitting; where he'd always sat before.

But he wasn't there. And he never would be ever again.

Exhaling deeply and choosing to try to ignore the depressing thoughts of his own weakness, the archer turned to his partner.

"You ready?"

Throwing back a smirk of delight, she answered, "Always."

He pushed the steering gear forward, clicking a few buttons. The quinjet shot off the tarmac, speeding through the air at a velocity most vehicles only hoped to attain. They burst through a layer of clouds hanging over the New York area, pulling over the vast ocean.

Natasha glanced back at the city. Dark thunderous clouds had formed above it, threatening a torrential downpour. Her breath hitched in the faintest as she smiled. They hadn't had a thunderstorm for a month or so and the last one had barely been able to be called as such. This one was going to be a real storm; lightning and thunder coursing across the cloudy expanse and water cascading from above. A streak of lightning shot through the sky, its path ending at Avengers Tower. She blinked, squinting.

"Nat?" Clint asked, tossing her a glance. "Something wrong?"

She shook her head. "There's a thunderstorm above New York…," She trailed off. They both knew of the possibilities the sentence held, but they were on a mission now. They couldn't go back, they had to fulfill their duty and qualm their curiosity when they returned.

_If_ they returned, she mentally corrected herself. In their line of work, one could not afford to be sure of anything. As the quinjet flew across the waters, the sun began its path downward towards the horizon. It cast a yellow-orange haze across the ocean, painting it with hues similar to a burning fire.

The two had a long flight ahead of them. The Widow snapped her brief shut and curled up on her seat, staring out the window, her back to the wall. Her Hawk's eyes had shuttered, becoming blank and hard. He had shifted into the mode he needed to be in for their missions. She smiled, closing her eyes and let herself slowly drift off into sleep. She resolved to switch places with Clint when she woke, to let him sleep. Neither knew how much they'd be able to sleep while on duty, now was the best time to do it.

Clint glanced at his slumbering partner, her chest rising and falling evenly with her breaths. She was sleeping and he had no intention to wake her. The quinjet soared across the churning waters far below, occasionally stirring up clouds. He smirked to himself. He was sure she'd wake up hours later and find her home country laying on the horizon. She'd reprimand him for not getting any sleep and all but shove him out of his pilot's seat, taking over herself. He'd then sleep for all of thirty minutes just to please her, before they'd hit the tarmac on the Moscow SHIELD base; well hidden on the edges of the city.

But that was for later and this was now. And now, he'd let his spider sleep in the peace and calm that was almost never present for any other part of their lives. For now, they would enjoy one of the rare lulls in their life. Because, soon, they'd be flying into another storm, and this one would be nothing like the one they had just left behind.

This storm could kill like no natural storm could.

* * *

Pepper lounged back in her office chair, exhaling deeply. She'd left that morning to go to a meeting in DC and only after arriving at the airport had found out it had been cancelled. Driving back to the tower with annoyance at her colleagues' impeccable timing, she hadn't expected much more than the normal when she returned: Tony missing half of his pant leg because he had set it on fire, Steve accidently blowing up another toaster, Clint scaring the daylights out of Tony by jumping down from the rafters, Natasha injuring Tony, or Bruce unintentionally destroying something in the lab with one of his experiments. Y'know, the normal stuff.

What she hadn't expected was the worry that creased her beau's face when she found him working in the lab. She had asked him what was wrong and his response was something she never would have predicted: the fact that Clint had randomly passed out in the living room and had been unconscious since. It wasn't like the strong-willed archer to instill the weariness upon himself that would've warranted the loss of consciousness. That meant there was something else that had caused it and that was what had Tony worried. He'd told her with one of his snarky, indifferent comments, pretending not to care, but she knew him better than that. The fact that he even mentioned it showed he cared.

Of course, she'd chosen to ignore the way he kept massaging his shoulder, an injury she was sure was inflicted upon by a certain SHEILD agent.

She had gone to check up on the archer, and was surprised at the worry that seemed to cloud the expression of the only other woman in the building: Natasha. Pepper had come to find how strong the woman was, in both the physical sense and the mental. Her manipulative abilities and agility were both amazing, and she doubted she'd seen anyone better than her new friend. It'd taken them a while, but the two had found a mutual relationship as the only females in the building and the CEO had finally forgiven the spy for what happened with the whole fiasco with Hammer and Vanko.

So she only found it necessary to be worried herself when both Natasha and Tony seemed anxious over the team's sniper. She'd been a little surprised when Clint had woken and had excused herself when she had seen the old scars begin to be reopened. She didn't need to see how that unraveled; that was none of her business. She'd seen all she needed to see. Their stubborn archer was fine and always would be, despite the scars he bore; physical and psychological.

When she had returned to the lab to inform Tony of the Hawk's condition, however, she was greeted by billowing smoke and a coughing billionaire. He had muttered something about recalibration, before she had yelled at him for nearly killing himself _again._ She knew she was overreacting, but her beau seemed to instill that within her; the overwhelming motherly instincts that he had never received as a child. She was all he had, and that was all he needed.

Sighing, Pepper raced her fingers across several different screens in front of her. Absent mindedly, she opened a page to eBay and began running a program Tony had designed by SHIELD's request. It turned out that a few of the Chitari weapons had found their way into civilian hands and some were more than willing to make a quick buck on them. Those people however didn't seem to understand that the internet wasn't the best place to sell extraterrestrial technology. The program simply eradicated the page and sent it to SHEILD to deal with. She was sure most, if not all, the tech had been taken off the markets, but it'd become habit to run the program while she worked.

She jumped in her chair when she heard a vicious slam against something metal, followed by the faint sound of laughter. Instinctively she threw up several of the various security camera footages on the screen. She sighed somewhat in relief when she realized it was only Clint and Natasha racing each other down the stairs in a way uniquely their own.

Smiling, she realized the two must've been called on a mission. The archer must've been deemed physically adept for duty. She knew he probably would have gone on the mission anyway even if he had not been deemed ready for active duty. That was just who he was: Their stubborn, strong willed Hawk.

Turning to gaze out the window, Pepper beheld the beauty that it illustrated. The sky was clear as day and the ocean in the distance seemed to shine as clear as a newly cut crystal. She squinted at the sudden change in the sky however. A sudden streak of glowing blue energy tore across the cloudless expanse. It was gone, though, before she even realized it was there.

Her breath hitched slightly. She'd recognize that color anywhere; the color that streamed out of the Chitari's weapons and pulsed through Loki's scepter. Tony had told her everything and she'd seen enough of the footage from the battle to identify the color that had wreaked havoc against New York six months ago.

She stared long and hard at the sky, hoping to prove herself crazy: that she was just imagining things. When no new streak of the blue light crossed the sky, she sighed slightly in relief. Turning back to her computer she worked again, furiously trying to forget what she'd seen.

But she couldn't. She knew what she saw, there was no mistaking it. Glancing at the door, she resolved to tell Tony, Director Fury, or _someone _about what she had just seen.

But not now. It could wait, couldn't it?

* * *

**The plot grows ever thicker...**

**Also, Tony's 'Barium, Cobalt, and Nitrogen' fusing is not me throwing random elements together. There's actually a meaning behind it. ;)**

**Thanks for sticking with me, ya'll! Reviews and constructive criticisms are always appreciated~ **


	4. Unspoken Words

**These chapters were written so they went roughly back and forth between Clint and Loki's POV's, so that means we're back in Asgard for this chapter! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

_There was a piercing shriek as they gathered around him. Blood pooled everywhere, the bodies of those he loved and those he did not know littering the ground. His mother lay in cold blood. They had killed her. _

_They had found him. They were going to kill him. _

_One of them walked in front of the others. He stared at him with more ferocity than should be capable for one who had his eyes covered. _

_"You failed us."_

_No. No, this could not be happening. He was going to die. They were going to kill him. _

_"I told you what would happen if you failed us, Trickster."_

_They weren't going to kill him, he realized. They were going to make him _suffer_._

_He walked closer. "That you would long for something as sweet as pain."_

_With those haunting words they descended upon him. He tried to scream, but his voice was gone. He was mute, robbed of the last shreds of power he once held. They were going to kill him. Eventually. _

Loki jerked awake with a gasp, sweat trickling down his forehead and his whole body shaking. He could vaguely feel the hot, salty tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"Loki!"

His mother jumped up from where she had been sitting. He looked around. He was back in his room. Had none of it happened? Had all in the court never transpired?

He pushed himself up, blinking at the silence. Shouldn't the chains be making their annoying rattling? He glanced down, arching an eyebrow. The chains and cuffs were gone. But why would they be gone? He felt his heart speed up slightly as the memories of before filtered back into his mind. He remembered. He remembered that Odin had taken his magic. What use was there to restrict something that was not there?

But he could still feel it. The flicker of calm and heat that thrummed contently against his chest remained. Most of it was gone, ripped mercilessly from his body, but some still lingered. He breathed silently in relief when he realized that it was still there. Unfortunately, the fact that the cuffs were gone meant he could do little to nothing with it. But it was there nonetheless and that was all that mattered to him.

Suddenly his mother was next to him. She reached out and took his hand, clutching it reassuringly. He moved to rip his hand from her grip, make a quip about how she wasn't his mother, but something stopped him.

The look in her eyes was filled with such love, such hope. She practically bled with the affection she felt for her son, and Loki couldn't find it in him to yell at his mother. Something dawned upon him in that moment, something proven by her the shine in her eyes.

It wasn't a lie. Her love had never been a lie. She'd been the only one who cared, the only one who had ever said 'I love you.' Looking closer, he noticed something else in her eyes: yearning.

She yearned to hold and love the son she'd thought she lost two years ago. The guards had never let her get too close; they seemed to fear the trickster and what he was capable of despite the chains he had worn. But they were wrong; he would never do anything to hurt his mother. He never could. He smiled wearily at her and she let go of his hand, choosing it better to embrace her son.

Surprised at the sudden action, Loki sat in a state a shock for a few moments before he returned the embrace. It was odd. He could practically feel his mother's love radiating from her body. It felt familiar. He realized that it was like the soothing hum he'd come to associate with his magic, the hum that had barely clung to him, beating silently against his chest. And like his magic, her love was something he could never let go of, something he hoped would never leave.

But now both were going to be torn away from him.

Pulling apart, Frigga looked up into her son's eyes. She smiled warmly, brushing a strand of his hair out of his face. With a voice like the whisper of the wind, quiet yet strong, she said softly, "Are you okay? You were crying."

_You will long for something as sweet as pain. _

Loki cringed at the haunting memory of the nightmare. It wasn't the first; the Chitari constantly plagued his mind in his attempts at sleep. They continually taunted him with their promises of suffering. He could never scream in those dreams, not even speak. His voice was gone, as if his vocal chords had been all but ripped out.

"I'm fine," He muttered, eyes downcast.

Frigga regarded him carefully before answering. "If you are going to lie to me, surely you can do better than that, my son."

He huffed, crossing his arms and leaning forward.

"You dream of something terrible," She whispered, deducing the trickster's actions from when he had awoken.

"I'm fine," He muttered again insistently.

"Oh, Loki…," She said gently, sighing. "Whatever it is, I can't help you if you don't tell me."

His eyes darted across the floor. She just wanted to help, but was it worth revealing his fears to be exploited? He glanced briefly at her again. There was a sorrow in her eyes, an emotion that dug deep into his heart as the hope shined beside it. All she wanted was to help him, to do what she hadn't done all his life. She wanted to mend what had been steadily breaking over the years and had shattered when he travelled to Jotunheim.

She just wanted to help.

"I…," He started, but stopped abruptly when the door opened. He could barely hear his mother hiss in indignation at the two guards who had dared interrupt her conversation with her son. One of the guards blinked in surprise, walking over and attempting to move Frigga away from the 'traitor'. The other guard held a hand on the hilt of his sword, searching Loki for a single excuse to swing the blade at his head. His mother ripped her hand from the guard's, standing in defiance.

"What is it that you need that is so vital to interrupt us?" She said with forced calm.

The guard glanced at the trickster with a glare. "Odin has given us orders regarding the traitor."

Loki stiffened from his spot on the bed. He'd already been almost completely stripped of his magic. Now, the king was going to banish him to Jotunheim. He was going to die. They were going to kill him.

_They were going to make him suffer._

He tried not to wince at the reminder of the haunting words of realization that had struck him in his nightmare. He supposed he could take some comfort in the fact that he was not going to be given to the Chitari, but to the Jotun. The Frost Giants may not be civil, but they weren't about to continuously torture one of their kin, even if he had attempted to destroy their world. No, they would not seek vengeance in his suffering, but rather in his death.

"And what are those orders?" She asked, the calm face she had barely holding through the ire in her eyes.

The guard coughed nervously. "My queen, he only requested we escort him to the Bifrost."

Loki's breath hitched and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. They were going to take him to the Bifrost. They were going to send him to Jotunheim. He was going to die.

Frigga glanced at her son. She knew him better than anyone and she could see the underlying terror in his green eyes. She caught sight of a feeble green spark he tossed between his fingers, out of sight of the guards. His magic was still there, yet the shackles were gone. Odin knew something she did not, and she decided to trust his judgment. After all, Thor's banishment was what had changed the young Asgardian from an arrogant boy to a selfless man and at the time it had felt like a horrible decision. But in the end it had worked out.

She could only hope this whole mess would work out too.

She sighed. "Then I am coming with you."

"I'm sorry, my queen, but Odin has forbidden it."

The trickster sent the wall a glare that could've melted it had it been made of something weaker. Odin couldn't even have the mercy to let him be with his own mother before he was banished?

He caught the guard wilt slightly at the glare he was sure Frigga was giving him.

"I can't be with my own son?" She asked, the anger in her voice evident.

The guard gulped nervously. "If it pleases you to know, my queen, the banishment has been temporarily suspended. The traitor is to be taken to the Bifrost for a different reason."

Loki breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe, for now at least. But why would he be needed at the Bifrost if not to banish him? Where were they going to send him? His magic thrummed a little louder in response, the slightest pull on it reminding him where. They were going to send him to Midgard so he could extract his magic from Barton and the sentence could be fulfilled completely.

His eyes hardened at the realization. There was nothing that could possibly force him to remove it. As long as it was in the Midgardian's mind the punishment could not be properly executed. He decided that that must've been his plan all along, despite it being made subconsciously. Even if he had to live his life with a miniscule amount of what had once been, it was still there; still humming contently against his chest. He'd hold onto what was left for as long as possible; even if they had to send him to Jotunheim with the fragment that was there.

He'd go to Midgard to remove it, but that didn't mean he'd be cooperative.

Frigga sighed beside him. "Very well." She tossed a glance at her son, knowing he wouldn't like the next words she was going to speak. "But I would prefer if Thor escorted him instead of you two," She said with a glower at the two young guards. She could feel her son tense up next to him.

"Are we not adequate enough?" The second asked, irritation in his tone.

"It is more likely you are not_ competent _enough," She whispered, but with the force of a powerful gale.

The younger of the two nearly growled, but the older stopped him. "It will be done, my queen." He glared at Loki and roughly dragged his partner out of the room.

When they were gone, the trickster turned to his mother, who had stood from where she was previously sitting.

"Why Thor?" He tried not to hiss, but the venom in his voice was harder to dissuade.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Would you prefer those two inept guards? Besides, we both know where you are going and your brother has been there before. It is only logical to send him with you."

Loki huffed in faux annoyance. In truth, he was somewhat glad that Thor would be the one taking him to the Bifrost instead of two guards who saw him as a traitor. They would've likely treated him as such. He realized his mother had foreseen that fact and had sent them away in place of his sibling.

In a way, she'd shone that she cared.

Despite this, it meant he'd have to spend his time on Midgard with his incompetent brother. Not only that, but Barton was a part of the Avengers now and he was sure none of them would be all too happy to see him. Then again, Thor would probably be able to deter them as he was their ally. He mentally weighed the pros and cons of the situation, but ultimately decided it was futile. His brother was coming with him, whether he liked it or not.

Frigga leaned next to him, kissing his forehead. "I must speak with Odin. Stay strong, my son. I'm sure Thor will be here soon." And with that she left the room with all the grace and beauty of the elegant swan on a moonlit lake.

The trickster leaned back slightly, waiting. He knew his brother would burst through the door with all the subtly of a charging bilge snipe and he'd hear him from afar. Eventually, the thunderous Asgardian ambled in, Mjolnir at his side. He seemed to perk up at seeing his younger sibling awake after what had happened in the court.

"Brother!" He greeted. "How do you fare?"

Loki sent him a glare that clearly dictated that he wished not to be referred to as if he was related to him. At Thor's oblivious expression he simply sighed, resting a hand to his head. "I have fared better, I suppose," He muttered halfheartedly.

His brother seemed to sober, if only somewhat, to the situation as he noticed the weariness edging the trickster's eyes. Walking closer to his brother, he placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. Loki pushed it away, wriggling out from under the elder's grasp with a glare. He stood and walked pointedly in the direction of the door. He arched an eyebrow at Thor, waiting for him to understand.

"Well?"

The older Asgardian shifted. "Right now?"

"Might as well get it over with," He said quietly, but with a taste of venom.

Thor nodded solemnly and the two walked out of the room, not unlike they had that morning; Side by side, as the equals Loki had wanted them to be and with the calming silence he loved. Yet, just as that morning, the older found the silence deafening and the younger fought to keep it.

Turned out, he wasn't very successful.

"Do you think it fair?" He asked, turning to his brother.

Loki arched an eyebrow as they turned a corner, heading down a flight of stairs. "The punishment?" He replied quizzically, though he knew full well what the thunderous Asgardian referred to.

At his confirming nod, the trickster tilted his head downward, taking great interest in the intricate patterns decorating the floor. He was practically being sentenced to death by his own kin with the only things he loved torn away from him. It was an execution fulfilled on foreign soil. Though, he supposed it was better than handing him off to the Chitari, if that were even possible. He scowled slightly, muttering, "Well it could have been worse."

Thor looked as if he wanted to inquire further, but made no effort to. They stopped suddenly and Loki looked up in confusion. His eyes widened at the sight and he tried to contain the sudden excitement he felt sweep through him, the worries of before swiftly swept to the back of his mind.

They were at the stables and his _horse_ stood there expectantly; the horse that he hadn't ridden for almost two years, the horse he had ridden as a child when fleeing the consequences of his pranks, the horse his mother had given him as a gift when he was young. It took everything in him to keep from bolting to the equine, just to stroke its snout to make sure it was real, that it wasn't an illusion.

He managed to hold himself until his brother walked forward and pulled at the reigns of his own steed. In that moment, Loki darted to the black and brown mare he called his own. With unbridled delight he stroked the horse's mane back. He caught sight of Thor's smirk from his perch on his horse's back.

"Well?"

Ignoring the fact that he was supposed to hate his brother-the oaf had just managed to get him his _horse_ for Pete's sake! - He scrambled into the saddle of his steed. With a whoop, Thor dug his heels into his tan and white horse's side and took off, his brother close behind.

Loki noticed gradually that their route was of the back roads, where no one usually travelled. They were met only by a few children, laughing at the speed with which they tore by. He smiled, a genuine, joyous smile. The wind whistled in his ears, singing a song in harmony with the crashing waves he heard approaching.

From afar, Thor signaled the guards at the gate and they opened it obediently. Within moments, the two princes were riding across the Bifrost, the crystalline bridge glowing with each hoof beat that smacked against its surface.

The younger took the moment in, the waves of water crashing violently below them, droplets of water sometimes spraying onto the bridge, and the wind whipping his slick black hair around in a frenzy of chaos. It was a wonderful feeling; the feeling of freedom. It was what he had used as a child as his escape. When those around him had ignored him or he had gotten in trouble, he'd ride. Sometimes he'd ridden for hours on end, his horse never weary from the long runs. He felt free. It was a feeling rivaled only by his mother's love and the thrum of his magic against his chest.

And it too, would be ripped away from him.

He chose to ignore that particularly depressing thought, deciding instead to revel in the freedom and joy of the moment. He knew it wouldn't last, things like this never did. But he wanted to remember it. He laughed, despite himself, the cool air feeling amazing against his skin. He'd been cooped up too long. This was exactly what he had needed.

Glancing at his companion that rode beside him, he wondered idly how his brother could have known. Had he perhaps noticed Loki's horseback escapes? Maybe. Perhaps this was only coincidence, but that didn't seem likely. He knew his brother. Had it been anyone else, they would've given him just any old horse, but Thor had gotten him _his_ horse. It meant more to the trickster than the older Asgardian probably knew.

Thor, for one, felt ecstatic at the gleeful smile his younger brother wore. He was sure he probably didn't even realize he was grinning. The younger's eyes seemed lost in deep thought, yet shone with excitement. He had noticed Loki's escapades when they were younger, but he only realized now where he had gone. He had gone riding, to feel the freedom of the wind against his face as he tore across open plains.

This was the Loki he remembered. Not the broken, vengeful younger brother who lived in jealousy, but the mischievous prankster who found excitement in the simplest things. He hoped that what he had broken could be mended and the trickster could return to what he once was. But he knew things could never be the same.

They shouldn't be the same, anyway. Not after how he had been treated through the years. No, things would change, but they would change for the better; even if the change only lasted until his banishment.

Soon enough, though, the two siblings pulled back on the reigns and dismounted. Loki stopped momentarily to stroke his horse's snout affectionately, knowing his brother was smiling behind him. He tried to sober to the situation that he was about to be plunged in, but the happiness he had just been through seemed to cling to both of them. He forced his smile to be smaller than what he actually felt, but his eyes gave away the ecstasy inside.

They reached Heimdall within a few moments, the older nodding.

"Good Heimdall, I do believe you know where we wish to go."

The gatekeeper nodded. "I do, you both wish to travel to Midgard."

Loki shifted nervously under the gatekeeper's gaze, the memory of encasing him in ice resurfacing. Heimdall turned and the three strode into the building.

"Do not fear, Trickster," The gatekeeper announced suddenly, making the aforementioned jump at the mention of his name. "I forgive you for what you did and I understand why you did it."

He eyed the gatekeeper for a moment as he walked up the steps, pulling his sword up and setting it above the activation point. Someone who he had nearly killed was offering him their forgiveness. That had never happened before; usually they began hating him with disgust. But, he realized, Thor was the same. Though he had tried to kill his brother, on more than one occasion, the older Asgardian continued to hold faith in him. Even his mother, though he had never attempted to kill her, trusted him and loved him despite the crimes he had committed. They saw good in him when no one else had.

"Thank you," He muttered, sobering to the situation. They were going to Midgard to extract his magic, but he wasn't going to make it easy for everyone involved.

The two brothers walked forward to stand in front of the large spire like part of the machine. Thor gripped Mjolnir in his hand as the electricity sparked from the activation point, arching over their heads and around the dome. The spire began to spin and a beam of light shot forward.

"Good Luck, young princes."

And with that the gatekeeper plunged the sword deeper and the two brothers dematerialized, shooting through space at speeds unknown by any other. It was an exhilarating feeling of weightlessness coupled with extreme velocity. Stars and planets streaked by them, the dark space between the realms an enormous expanse of shadows and blackness. The colors of the Bifrost intermingled, swiveling and spinning around them in an array of light.

Midgard quickly came into view as they hurtled in its direction. Quickly approaching below, was an expanse of dark clouds, rippling with electricity. They tore through it, Avengers Tower directly below. They landed with all the subtly of a crashing helicopter on the roof, Loki noticing how a lightning streak had followed them through the clouds.

Thor stood before he did, his confidence likely due to his position among the Avengers. The trickster stood a little more cautiously, eyeing the door that led down and into the tower. It was sunken into the ground so the roof remained a flat surface. He unconsciously moved behind the older Asgardian, instinct putting something between him and the imminent threat that he was sure would burst through the door at any moment.

It didn't take long for that threat to come. Within a minute or two, both Tony and Steve darted through the door and to the roof. Their expressions were priceless, but only lasted a moment before they seemed to quickly sober and realization clicked in their minds.

* * *

Though the sun had yet to set, it still painted the golden Asgardian balcony with orange and yellow hues akin to a blazing flame. It overlooked the ocean, its waves crashing below the crystalline bridge above it. Odin stood on the shining surface of the overhang, not bothering to turn when another presence approached.

Frigga moved to stand beside him, watching as both her sons' horses galloped down the pristine bridge toward the Bifrost. She silently stared at her husband, knowing full well he wished to speak.

"I do not trust him," His voice rumbled over the balcony, stirring the silence that had been.

The Queen sighed and let her eyes drift down to her hands folded in front of her. "I know."

He did not move, nor acknowledged she had spoken, the two princes dismounting in the distance, one lingering longer than the other.

"Does it mean nothing?" Frigga said suddenly, eyes roving over her husband. "Loki could've kept quiet. He didn't have to tell us about the tether."

"He bides his time," Odin answered curtly, never once looking in her direction.

"He was caught in a cloud of panic and exhaustion."

"Loki has outsmarted even our finest scholars, and in a heartbeat's time. Fully understanding the difference in consequence between stilling his silvertongue and letting it slip is completely within his realm of capability. He is a manipulative Liesmith of extraordinary caliber."

Frigga narrowed her eyes slightly. The words sounded practiced, thought out. He had pondered this event just as she had. He had also known she would confront him about it and had prepared for it. She drew in a long breath, the beam of light known as the Bifrost shooting into the dark shadowy expanse lit by the sparkles of far away stars.

"If you have so little faith in him, then why do you trust him to go to Midgard and not wreak havoc?" She muttered harshly.

Odin's eye lowered and he sighed deeply. "I don't."

The air stilled into quiet, the Bifrost's light illuminating the observatory. Frigga watched it contently, glancing sideways at her husband.

"If Loki has such spectacular abilities in his trickery as you say," She started quietly, "Then what does that make the ones who deceived him for his entire life?"

Her question hung tensely in the air, but the king did not answer. With a sigh, she turned and walked off the balcony. She knew he knew the answer, and did not miss the disappointed look in his eye every time he mentioned his younger son. Yet, she would trust him. She hadn't agreed with him when he had banished Thor, but he had had his reasons and it had all worked out for the better.

Well, mostly for the better. It seemed the new scars Loki had been inflicted with in that same time had ripped apart his last strands of hope, driving him to what all had assumed as his own death. But there he had stood, downcast and defeated in the Asgardian court. The fear that had flicked through his eyes before suddenly being shrouded at the sound of his sentence had not escaped her eye. She knew what the Jotun would do to him. She knew he would not survive long enough for 'his crimes to be paid for.'

As the light of the Bifrost dimmed, Frigga exhaled deeply. She hoped that Odin's reasons for sending her thunderer and mischief maker to Midgard would benefit them both, and that this whole fiasco would work itself out, falling into the place where it belonged in the intricate puzzle of life.

But then again, that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

* * *

**I was way too happy when I was writing that horse scene. Sorry if it seems a bit out of place, but I was having way too much fun with it. **

**I've got finals next week, so I don't know how that'll affect my upload schedule. For now, just expect a chapter every morning until I indicate otherwise. **

**Thanks for reading! Your reviews always make me smile. C:**


	5. Past Actions

**My apologies. I meant to have this out this morning, but hadn't proofread it yesterday as I had planned. Better late than never, though, right?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

It had only been an hour or two after the resident SHEILD agents had departed on their 'super secret spy mission' as Tony had called it. Since then, the billionaire's conversation with Jane had turned back to the scientific rather than their previous discussion on excuses. At some point, Bruce had wandered up to the living room in search of his lab partner. The two scientists abruptly began discussing radiation and wormholes, at which point Tony decided to head back down to the lab.

He was a more of a mechanical engineer anyway. Radioactive physics wasn't his thing. At least, that's what he assumed they were talking about.

He had been surprised to find Steve waiting by the lab, looking rather confused. He explained he'd been looking for their resident gamma radiation expert. Tony had unlocked the lab and they both went inside, the genius helping the first Avenger locate whatever it was he had been looking for.

They didn't get very far before there was a thunderous crash from above and JARVIS had informed them that something had landed on the roof. The two had exchanged glances before they both scrambled up the stairs. When they reached the top, whatever they had been expecting was nothing close to what they found.

Loki carefully crouched behind his brother, who held Mjolnir in a rather defensive manner. Tony blinked in bewilderment, the rational part of his brain wishing he'd at least put on _part_ of his suit. The not so rational part however…

"What is _he _doing here?!" He shouted in his companion's ear, much to the soldier's annoyance.

Thor twirled his hammer in his hand, the younger Asgardian straightening somewhat from his hunched position. "It is good to see you too, Friend Stark."

"Thor," Steve started carefully, trying not to aggravate the Asgardian, "Could you please explain why _Loki _is back on earth?"

The warrior glanced at his younger brother, who now stood at his full height again, more confident than before. He stared at the two Avengers before him. "I assure you, my friends, my brother is hardly in any state to bring this realm to its knees. He won't harm you."

"I never said that," the trickster muttered under his breath, unheard by the other three present.

"That doesn't explain why he's here though," Rogers said warily.

"Why are you on my roof?!" Tony exclaimed, but was ignored in favor of the soldier's more reasonable statement.

The older Asgardian sighed heavily. "It is a long explanation." He blinked at the rain droplets that were beginning to fall. "And I think it would be best to discuss it indoors."

"I do not want _him _inside my tower," the owner of said building growled indignantly, pointing at the younger Asgardian.

Loki's eyes widened innocently as his older brother responded. "Trust me, my friend, Loki can do no harm at the moment."

The rain was starting to grow thicker as they spoke, the clouds rumbling threateningly above. The trickster jumped minutely when a particularly loud strike of lightning hit a building nearby. He idly wondered if the bolts of electricity pulsing above them reflected Thor's mood.

"He _threw_ me out a _window_," Tony hissed.

The previously accused opened his mouth, no doubt to make some witty remark, before he was elbowed by his brother. He sent a half hearted glare in his direction, before moving his eyes back to his accuser. The rain was pelting them now like an icy storm of thorns, biting into their skin with a freezing ferocity.

"I assure you, Stark, I will not throw you out of any more windows," Loki muttered with an eye roll, loud enough to hear over the rain. He glared at him and crossed his arms, hopeful the stubborn billionaire would just let them inside his tower already.

Tony growled under his breath, not willing to comply, but when a bolt of lightning struck a little too close for comfort, he acceded. "Fine, but don't you dare try anything or I'll sic Bruce on you," He consented angrily.

Loki hid a wince at the memory. He hadn't thought before that day that any Midgardian could ever bring harm to the physical superiority of the Asgardians, but that day he'd found out he'd been wrong. And he had had the broken bones to prove it. It wasn't a pleasant discovery to be sure and certainly one he didn't wish to revisit.

Thor set a hand on his shoulder, half for comfort, half to display a fake sense of control. The trickster almost immediately shoved the hand away with a soft snarl. The warrior sighed and they began to walk down the stairs and into the tower. Steve walked in front of them with Tony behind. He supposed there was no way the billionaire was about to put his back to him. He shivered involuntarily, hoping the older Asgardian didn't notice.

The trickster growled under his breath and glared up at Thor, hoping he wouldn't say anything. The older sibling arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. They continued to walk in silence, an amazing feat seeing as Tony was behind them, but like the times before, it was evident the thunderous Asgardian did not enjoy the quiet as much as his younger brother did. Apparently, neither did Tony.

"I don't like this silence. He's plotting something," He stated as if it were fact, despite the fact that the aforementioned was at least making himself _look_ as innocent as possible.

Thor looked like he was about to respond on behalf of his younger sibling, but Steve beat him to it.

"Tony, just because someone is being quiet doesn't mean they're plotting something," He replied, turning back to look at the genius as they reached the living room. They could hear the faint voice of Bruce speaking. When they reached the bottom, the scientist glanced back from where he stood.

"Hey did you guys figure out what that…" He trailed off at the sight of the two Asgardians. Arching an eyebrow, he glanced quizzically at Steve.

"Thor here was about to explain for us," He answered the unasked question quickly. He glanced at the downpour that had started outside. "As you can see, the roof didn't seem like the best place for story time."

The older Asgardian looked like he was about to respond and delve into regaling their tale, but was cut off by the excited voice from behind Bruce.

"Thor?!" An obviously female voice exclaimed. The scientist stepped aside so the screen was visible. Jane's eyes widened at the sight of the Asgardian she had not seen for so long.

"Jane?" The aforementioned asked quizzically before darting to the screen. He looked it up and down for a moment. "How did you get in such a thin box?"

The trickster rolled his eyes with a groan and set a hand on his forehead as Jane laughed. "It's just a Skype video feed," She tried to explain, though she was sure he wouldn't understand.

Her suspicions were confirmed at the blank look in his eyes. "I do not understand, Lady Jane, yet I am still pleased to see you again," He replied setting a hand on the screen gently.

Loki was pretending not to gag from the sentiment from where he stood by the circle of couches. When Bruce noticed his presence his eyes widened and he walked towards the would-be world conqueror. His thoughts raced by, Clint's retelling of his story taking up most of them. He'd seen through the trickster's eyes and now said trickster was here. What reason would Thor have to bring his brother to Midgard? He would bet anything it had something to do with their archer.

Ignoring Tony's exclamation for an explanation from Thor, Bruce stood next to the younger Asgardian. Loki flinched at his presence, a spark of fear passing through his eyes; no doubt in memory of the…other guy's rather brutal beat down on him in that very room. The gamma expert felt a twang of pity and regret for smashing the Asgardian into the ground those six months ago, but felt it fit away at the coinciding memories of smoldering buildings. The trickster composed himself within a second however, and he stared at the scientist, arching an eyebrow questioningly.

"What?" He asked with a cutting edge to his tone.

The scientist stared at him for a moment. "Why are you here?"

"So my condemnation can be properly fulfilled," He muttered darkly, glancing at the chattering oaf across the room. The warrior could get so easily distracted from his goals…Where was Barton anyway? So far he'd seen the other three Avengers, but the two assassins were nowhere to be seen.

Bruce took note of the absence of the shackles and cuffs that had been placed in order to contain the trickster's magic when Thor had taken him and the tesseract back to Asgard. He deduced the Asgardian had somehow lost his ability to use his magic if there was nothing hindering it; that or he was trusted enough to warrant the chains unneeded. He was betting on the former.

He blinked for a moment, remembering their archer's story. "Does it have to do with Agent Barton?" He asked carefully, hoping he didn't give anything away if he was wrong.

Loki blinked, wrinkling his forehead. "Perhaps," He said quietly.

The trickster glanced again at the warrior, still entranced by the woman he'd met on his previous 'visit' to Midgard. He looked around the room; Tony was walking toward them, having given up on trying to get between the older Asgardian and the female to figure out why they were here. He suspected the billionaire would try to extract the reason from him. Steve had mysteriously disappeared.

Tony stopped in front of them, pointing at the couch. "Sit," He instructed, plopping into a one person chair beside the large couch.

He scowled, not wanting to accede to the man, but relented anyway when Bruce slipped into the edge of the larger couch. He glared out the window, staring at the slowly descending sun as it painted the skyline in a shadowy haze.

"Since Point Break is otherwise occupied," Tony stated, jamming a finger in Thor's direction and ignoring the trickster's confused expression at the nickname, "_You_ need to explain why you're both here."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "I do not _have_ to explain anything," He said curtly, intending to draw out the conversation for what it was worth.

"Look, Loki," Bruce started, "We know Barton's got some kind of connection with you. He collapsed in that very same spot earlier this morning. When he woke up, he claimed he'd seen Asgard through your eyes. Sound familiar?"

The trickster flicked his eyes downward, before turning them to stare at the scientist. He hadn't known the Hawk had seen through his eyes. He hadn't even thought about it. Of course, he was sure he'd seen through Barton's eyes himself, but he'd never considered it'd go both ways.

He bit his lip. Explaining that he'd had the same thing happen involved the inclusion of what had happened prior. Though he did not doubt the two genius' deductive abilities, it was unnecessary for him to outright state what had occurred; what he had lost and how vulnerable he'd been rendered. He'd be announcing his weakness for his enemies to exploit and that didn't sound appealing at all. Instead, he chose to remain silent, staring contemplatively out the window.

Then again, he supposed, Thor wouldn't pause to still his tongue and contemplate his words before carelessly letting them spill from his mouth, announcing everything about the punishment before he could so much as breathe. Sighing, the mischief maker set a hand on his forehead, realizing they'd find out sooner or later. A glance at the two seated next to him told him they both waited anxiously for his answer.

"Fine," He acceded, frustrated at how well he knew his brother. "A similar occurrence happened to me after an attempt at carrying out my sentence. I saw you," He stopped to point at Bruce, "Romanoff and Stark's lady friend."

Tony crossed his arms. "That doesn't explain why you're here though."

He exhaled deeply, silently admiring the architectural prowess displayed in the room, particularly in the rafters. He'd spent enough time with the Hawk to know how much he loved heights and distance. He supposed the archer had had something to do with the exposed beams.

Glancing back at his 'interrogators', he replied with an eye roll, "My punishment was hindered because of that reason, Stark. My magic is tethered to the Hawk's mind, lingering dormant for the past six months."

"And you came here to remove it," Bruce deduced, recalling and retracing the events of that morning. The trickster nodded in affirmation.

"Great!" Tony exclaimed suddenly, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "Feather Head isn't even here!"

Loki arched an eyebrow. "Then where is he?"

"On some stupid super secret spy mission," Tony groaned, realizing the two Asgardians were likely to bunk in his tower until the pair of SHIELD agents returned. "I have no idea where."

The silver tongued Asgardian exhaled deeply, eyes roving through the darkening skyline outside, still pelted with a torrential downpour. He almost smirked, realizing he wouldn't even have to expel the effort to elongate the little freedom he was experiencing. "Do you know when he will return?"

Bruce bit his lip, frowning. "The longest mission they've been on that I know of was a few months in Argentina, but from what I heard that took place a couple years ago."

"So, you do not know?" The trickster concluded.

"Nope," Tony confirmed, exasperated.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being Thor's bellowing voice and laughter as he spoke with Jane. Loki tossed him a glance, scowling at the long shadow that edged toward him, despite it being skewed by the clouds. It reminded him of the years of living in the shade of his sibling's constant praise and admiration. He'd only wanted to be equal to him; never better-well maybe a little-, never less, but equal. He frowned and shifted his gaze back toward the window. Now he'd never get the chance to prove himself; to prove he was just as good as Thor.

But he knew he'd never stood a chance, not even from the start. He'd been an outcast, an adopted bargaining tool meant to keep the peace between realms. He was nothing. He was a stolen relic, simply put away until he was needed. Odin had never loved him and he never would.

"What was it?" Bruce's voice jarring his thoughts as he realized the burning in his eyes of tears he refused to let fall. He cocked his head in confusion, wondering to what the scientist referred.

"Your punishment, Green Eyes," Tony muttered in explanation.

He blinked, glancing at them with an arched brow. "I don't believe that is necessary knowledge for the situation at hand."

The billionaire leaned back, nonchalantly. "Yeah, but Thor's gonna tell us anyway. You prefer we hear it from him or you?"

He scowled, frowning in ire. Apparently they knew the warrior enough, as well. With a roll of his eyes and a reluctant sigh he replied, "My punishment consists of the extraction of my magic and banishment to Jotunheim."

"That's it?" Tony asked immediately, not understanding the depravity the trickster would be forced into through the judgment. "You try to take over the world and you get your toys taken and sent to time out?"

Loki growled in indignation. "It would be akin to ripping that accursed machine out of your chest and giving you over to your enemies to do with you as they wish. I tried to destroy Jotunheim and I killed my own fa-their king before I even came to Midgard. The Jotun will not accept me with gratitude. Does it still sound like an inadequate verdict, Stark?" He snarled angrily, hissing under his breath for allowing his emotions to let his silver tongue slip.

The billionaire only seemed to hear the mistake though. He narrowed his eyes. "Your own _what_?"

The Liesmith huffed and crossed his arms, sinking deeper into the couch.

"Friend Stark!" Thor's booming voice interrupted their 'interrogation' and Loki mentally sighed in relief. The wielder of Mjolnir stepped aside from the screen so Jane could see them all. "Would it be too much trouble too request you fly Lady Jane to your tower. I would go to her, but our circumstances make that impossible."

Tony waved a hand around casually, "Yeah, sure. JARVIS can you arrange that?"

_"Of course, sir."_

He stood as Thor began to say his goodbyes to his first Midgardian friend. With a glance at the Liesmith, he trudged over to the older Asgardian, tapping him on the shoulder just as the screens went dark and were replaced with his screensaver.

"I guess you're bunking here for a bit," He muttered begrudgingly, throwing Loki a wary glance though the trickster seemed content to try and stare the New York skyline out of existence.

"Why so?" He looked around and seemed to realize something. "Where are the noble archer and widow of black?"

The engineer sighed. "They're off frolicking in another country no doubt," He muttered, missing the Asgardian's confused expression. "We don't know when they'll be back."

"Those two do not strike me as the type that would 'frolic,'" He mumbled mostly to himself.

"Anyway, since I'm guessing you two can't exactly go back until you take care of Blitzen's magical tether, you two are gonna have to stay here 'til they get back," He glanced warily at the mischief maker again. _And there is no way I'm leaving Green Eyes alone in a room_, He thought to himself.

The Asgardian seemed to mull over the genius' words, lifting a hand to his chin in thought. "Then where shall we stay, Friend Stark?"

Tony waved a hand casually. "Don't worry. You're an Avenger remember? And this is _Avengers_ Tower after all; I built a room in for you from the beginning."

Thor arched an eyebrow. "You expected me to return?"

The engineer shrugged. "Well, we weren't sure, but we didn't want you to come back and _not_ have a room. That would've been just rude."

The warrior smiled and nodded in agreement. He looked out the window, the sun finally dipping below the horizon, skewed by the torrent of rain. The dark shadowy expanse of night began to seep into the clouded expanse of sky, its invasion hindered only by the bright orange and yellow hues similar to fire of the setting orb of light. Night approached and with it, challenges that had to be worked through before all could be calmed.

"Where are our quarters?" He asked, glancing at the staircase.

Tony blinked. "Our?"

"I assumed you did not trust my brother enough to leave him alone," Thor stated curtly.

He chuckled nervously, but subtly. "Yeah, not really."

"So?"

"Oh, right, get Green Eyes, your room's up here," He said heading toward the staircase.

The elevator suddenly dinged as Loki snarled something at Thor-probably hissing about how the warrior wasn't his brother. Bruce stood to follow them, having not much else to do, but turned to watch as the doors to the elevator slid open.

Pepper, who for one had _not_ been there to hear Natasha's spiel on the dangers of hydraulic powered lifts, glanced around nervously and motioned to Tony, throwing the silvertongued Asgardian a wary, yet curious, glance.

With a look of confusion, the billionaire trotted back down the stairs he'd climbed and sidled up to the CEO. She hadn't left the elevator, but had stuck enough of her body in the frame to keep the doors from closing.

"I need you for a moment," She whispered.

Tony arched an eyebrow. "Okay?"

She motioned him into the elevator. As he stepped in, he turned to the scientist standing beside one of the couches. "Brucey, show Thor where his room is will ya? And you have my permission to tousle Blitzen if he tries anything," He added the last part with a cruel wink at the aforementioned.

Loki seemed to cringe ever so slightly at the genius' words, but he was probably just imagining things. The doors slid closed and the elevator began to descend. Just as he was about to speak, however, Pepper jammed the panic button and the lift abruptly stopped. His words died on his lips at the serious look on his woman's face.

"I need to tell you something."

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**If I remember correctly, I struggled immensely with this chapter. But that was back in November so my memory might be incorrect. :P**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are always appreciated. C:**


	6. Shadows and Debts

**Thank you for all your reviews~ **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

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_He was standing on a shadowy, barren landscape. He couldn't see past a couple yards. Everything was shrouded in a dense cloud of darkness, but he could still see the unmoving bodies, ebony arrows protruding from their chests. _

_One person stood, despite the arrow in his chest. His face was pale and clammy, eyes cold and blank. He looked like a zombie. He was Agent Coulson. He had killed him. It was his fault._

_"What am I," Coulson whispered, "But the cruel attempt at satisfying your bloodlust?" _

_No. No, this couldn't be. He moved forward, almost involuntarily. Almost. He grabbed the shaft of the arrow, his victim's eyes widening, but remaining blank. He pushed in further, taking manic glee in the gasp of pain. _

_No. No, he wasn't supposed to be happy about this. They were controlling him. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop it._

_But there were no strings and no puppeteer. He had no master and no one controlled him. Only the tugging at the back of his mind remained, but it did nothing, controlled nothing, as he plunged the arrow deeper._

_The man collapsed, lifeless on the barren rock under them. He took a moment to look around him. The bodies remained, and his bow was held in his hand, stained red with crimson blood. _

_This was his fault. This was all his fault. There was no one to blame now. There were no strings and no puppeteer. It was all him._

_ He gasped in pain and clutched his chest, falling to his knees. It was all his fault. It was because he was a monster. It was because of the bloodlust the control had instilled in him. _

_It was because he was weak._

_This time, there were no strings and no one to let the blame fall to. It was all him. It was all because he was a weak, bloodthirsty monster._

_It was all his fault, and no one else's._

Clint jerked awake, smacking his head against the metal floor of the quinjet. He blinked in confusion as the dream echoed in his mind. This one was different than the others. All the others he had experienced, he had had no control. Although he couldn't control himself in this dream, he knew it was by his own will. There had been no strings. There had been no controller. There had only been him, and that was what scared him.

What scared him was the fact that he could bring himself to that point. That he was capable of that bloodbath. He knew he was an assassin, killing was what he did. But the bloodbath in that dream was filled with innocence, of people that had done nothing wrong. Had the mind control truly instilled that horrid, lingering bloodlust within him when it first took over?

The dream began to fade as he pushed himself up, vaguely stiff from his sleep on the hard metal floor. He glanced to the front of the plane, Natasha was still seated in the pilot's seat she had shoved him out of an hour or so before. He'd slightly underestimated her waking time and she had threatened him with a wrench she'd found abandoned in the back of the plane until he had slept.

Now, though, she sat content in what had been his seat for the majority of the flight. She seemed to sense his awoken presence and glanced back to the rear of the plane.

"You sleep well?" She asked, dreading the answer that was returned on most of the mornings she asked.

The archer grunted and stood, dropping into the co-pilot's chair. "Not really," He muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Nightmare again?" She asked quietly, her voice like a whispering breeze on the shore of a crystalline ocean.

He dropped his hands to the arm rests and sunk a little deeper into the chair with a sigh. "It was different this time," He said softly, turning his gaze outside. The ocean had been replaced with land and the silhouette of a city could be seen on the horizon.

Natasha arched an eyebrow, but kept her gaze forward, occasionally flicking a switch. "How so?"

He let out a long deep breath. Might as well, after all, she'd find out eventually.

"It was my fault," He stated, eyes blank and emotionless, yet underneath they groaned in anguish and uncertainty, ire lacing the edges. "All of it."

The lithe spy sighed. "No, none of that was your fault. It was Loki's, okay?"

With a fleeting thought on whether or not is actually was Loki's fault, he grunted again and sat up a little straighter, drawing his knees to his chest. "It's not that," He said quietly. "That's why it was different, Tasha. There _were_ no strings. There _was _nocontroller. It was all me."

He closed his eyes. "All to fulfill a bloodlust that wasn't even mine," He whispered as an afterthought, unsure if she heard it, but not caring either way.

She eyed him for a moment, sorrow and empathy in her eyes. "Clint," She started with a whisper, "My Hawk…whatever you think you are...whatever these dreams make you out to be…it's wrong. Their wrong," She whispered each word with a hidden force behind it, willing the archer to listen and heed what she spoke. He turned his grey blue gaze to hers. Honesty and strength looked back at him, her words bleeding with a truth she longed for him to see.

"You're not a monster," She said quietly. "And you're not weak. I know you well enough to know what you think you are, but you're not. You never will be."

Though her words were often used to manipulate and destroy, they now served a greater purpose. The force in her whisper and the dripping honesty of her words roared back at the archer. Her words carried a commanding tone, willing the receiver to heed, yet carried a faux vulnerability that allowed the target to step into her ruse. Today there was no fake vulnerability, but a sincere hope and yearning for her partner to understand and believe her.

But it wasn't love. Love was for children.

He didn't speak, but let the words sink in. She didn't believe him a monster; she didn't even see him as weak. The most beautiful woman he'd ever met, and the one with the most resolve and stubbornness, considered him strong, even to the point of believing he would never be otherwise. She believed he'd never be a monster. She believed he'd never be weak.

She'd always believe that, no matter what he said. To her, the dreams didn't seem to matter. The dreams didn't hold any sway. She didn't believe the dreams were right, so why should he?

But it was Coulson. It was Coulson that had told him of his bloodlust, asking him if he would ever be satisfied. The older agent that had dragged him out of the shadowy doom the archer had managed to dig himself into and been the brother that Barney had never been, that same agent had stared at him with dead eyes and no life. That same agent had regarded himself as nothing. Nothing, but part of Clint's bloodbath.

He had killed that same agent with his own ebony arrows, taken glee in it even. It was sick. It was wrong. It was…

Contradictory. It contradicted everything he'd ever done. It contradicted who he was. It contradicted the brotherhood he had formed with the older man. It contradicted _everything._

So why had he done it?

Maybe Natasha was right. Maybe it was just a dream. A dream conjured up by his lingering fears. A dream only his subconscious could truly and fully understand. But his subconscious wasn't at the forefront of his mind. It was at the back, just like everyone else's and he wasn't sure if he could even bring it forward to try and make sense of his dreams.

His dreams made no sense, yet they did. Everything, yet nothing, in them was real. The dreams contradicted themselves, but left a bitter taste of truth every time he awoke from them.

In the end, did it matter?

As the final remnants of the nightmare began to fade, though some parts stubbornly remaining, he felt the plane descend. He opened his eyes again, the tarmac of the Moscow SHEILD base coming quickly underneath them. The plane shook slightly as the wheels made contact and its momentum began to ebb.

As the quinjet slid to a stop, Clint stood from his seat, slinging his duffel bag and quiver over his shoulder. The ramp lowered and Natasha joined him by his side, casting him a wary glance that clearly wanted to know if he'd be alright.

He gave her the faintest of smiles, indicating he would, but he wasn't sure if he believed himself. The spy arched an eyebrow, but seemed content with the nonverbal answer.

It took the both of them only a few minutes to get to the briefing room where a metal table sat in the center. A map with several locations marked in red marker lay half folded on top of it. Clint adjusted the strap of his quiver and leaned against the wall, waiting for an agent to come give them an overview of the situation.

Although they had been thoroughly debriefed back home, much of the details were left out for those who had a better idea of the situation to fill. So, they waited. And waited. And waited…

"Where is this guy?" The archer all but snarled, narrowing his eyes at the door.

Natasha grunted and leaned off her respective place on the wall across from the marksman. "He better hurry up if he wants us to catch this guy before he skips the country."

As if on cue, the door was pushed ajar and a stout man with round glasses and a receding hairline stepped in. He walked with arrogance and lifted his nose up at the two assassins. His suit was pricey and appeared to be tailored to him specifically and his being seemed to emanate with haughtiness.

Clint instantly hated him.

He eyed them both for a moment before huffing. "They sent me the two emotionally compromised freaks with questionable pasts for this mission of national security? Ugh."

It took everything in the archer to keep himself from wringing the man's throat right then and there. The lithe spy opposite of him seemed to be seething with barely controlled abhorrence, veiled by her carefully guarded expression and shuttered eyes. Instead, they both leaned on their respective walls as nonchalantly as they could muster.

"If this is such an important matter," Natasha began with ire slipping through her tone, "Then why did you take your sweet time getting here to debrief us?"

The man stuck his nose a little higher in the air and Clint wanted nothing more to smack it into the ground. "It wasn't important enough for me to waste my own time."

_But it's okay to waste ours?_ The sniper thought bitterly, throwing the man a glare. "Well hurry up and debrief us, and we'll get out of your hair," He nearly growled.

"Gladly."

The man leaned over the table and pointed to several of the locations, relaying the information about them. He continuously gave them haughty glances, as if to show how absolutely _superior _he was to both of them. At one point, he indicated the most likely place the drug dealer was hiding, a large community center that was used for a variety of events. More importantly it had a large basement that was used mostly for storage. He finished with the warehouse Jacob Haydes was killed in and threw a few photographs on the table of the crime scene.

As Natasha thumbed through them, he straightened. "Now if you'll excuse me," He stated curtly, "I have much more pressing issues to deal with."

And with that he strode out of the room.

Clint nearly gagged. "That guy's a conceited idiot. I don't like him," He muttered darkly.

"Agreed. I'd like to know how he managed to get into SHEILD," Natasha murmured, as she memorized the map. Her partner had already memorized it within ten minutes of walking into the room, she was sure.

When she was sure she could recall at least the most important information, she straightened and began to walk out. "Let's go."

They both exited the base, sliding into a black sedan and driving toward the outskirts of the city. It was a bit after two and the sun was just starting its descent towards the horizon. It didn't take long for them to find their safe house and they both took less than five minutes to settle in. Clint threw his duffel on his bed without a care, his partner mimicking his actions, but in a room opposite him.

They came out at the same time, both holding the same granola bar at the same length. They eyed each other for a moment, before they started laughing. Their minds seemed linked to the point of copying the other without even realizing.

As they sat at the table they mulled over their options and Clint agreed to scope out possible roosts for surveillance. As he climbed to the roof, quiver slung over his back and bow over his shoulder, he smirked at his partner. Natasha strode downstairs and lay out all her supplies and went over the information she had received on their target.

Let the game begin.

Clint shifted into the divot in the tall building, his eyes roving over the building across the street for movement. Night had since fallen and he'd confirmed the community center was their best bet. His perch was high above the street below; giving him the distance he loved so much. In silence, he waited, searching for any sight of shifting shadows or roving forms.

The moon had only begun its ascent when he had first slipped into his roost, but now it was steadily trudging downward. There had still been no movement, but the archer's eyes never wavered in weariness, nor ached in pain. Though he stared into the poorly lit street below for hours on end, eyes roving over the entire block, he had not grown tired, nor had he moved or so much as twitched from his original position.

Such were the skills of a sniper; Never moving, never changing, but always watching.

Just as he was about to head back to the safe house, a black truck grumbled into the parking lot. A man dressed in a tattered jumpsuit stepped out and opened the door to the center. Clint watched intently, none of the lights turned on, but the man did not reemerge.

"Nat," he whispered almost silently, "Got somethin'"

Her disembodied voice crackled in his ear. "What is it?"

"Black truck. Dude wearing a ratty jumpsuit and a beard. He's about forty-three, by the looks of it. He just walked in, but none of the lights are on."

There was the sound of something shuffling as Natasha searched through the paper she had undoubtedly scattered across the table. "Alright, tell me more when you get it."

"Will do," he breathed.

He stared long and hard at the building for the next hour or so, but no movement was seen from the mysterious man that had entered. But Clint was patient, at least when it came to his roosts, and could wait much longer and without so much as a twitch for the man to reemerge. Although his longsuffering did not extend over all periods of his life, it covered the important parts. The parts where, if he had no such virtue, he'd be dead.

Learning patience hadn't been easy for the young archer, but after gleaning plenty of useful information from stealthy eavesdropping when he was at the circus, he'd quickly come to find how usefully the asset of patience actually was. From then on, he'd steadily gotten better and better, able to keep his normally hyperactive sugar-fueled self unmoving for longer and longer periods of time. It had come in handy far more often than he'd ever anticipated.

Although, teaching himself to stay awake for the long periods of time had been a little harder. But when the point came that he could only find sleep in odd places and odd hours, he'd adapted and that adaption had stayed with him since.

Now, he was content to use both these assets to their fullest capability. He'd wait until the man left , until another came, or he was forced to vacate his roost.

From its fiery place at the horizon, the sun began to melt the dreary darkness that had plagued the night sky. Blue replaced black and the shining light of the far away star chased away the twinkling sparks of its sisters. Morning had come and nothing had moved; not the truck, not the center, not anything in the center, and not even the archer perched in his roost.

Deciding it best to return under the cover of shadows that remained, Clint edged silently out of the divot in the building. With the agility and stealth of a black cat in the dead of night, he began running across the rooftops. It didn't take him long to reach the roof of their safe house and he slipped in through the tainted skylight sunken into the shingles.

Instead of walking down the stairs and into the living room like a normal person, the archer gripped the railing and flung himself over, landing on the ground below in a roll.

Natasha jerked awake from where she'd fallen asleep by the communicator and layout of pictures and information. She blinked blearily at her partner for a moment before her eyes completely focused. Yawning, she pushed herself off the chair and strode to the small kitchen attached to the main room.

"You find anything else out?" She asked, starting the coffee machine.

Clint jumped up and sat on the countertop. "He went in and never came out. Nothing moved since he went in. The basement's my guess."

"You see anything else?"

"Oh, yeah," The archer sighed. "Plenty of cameras. They were all hidden and they all were aimed at the building. I'm guessing there's probably other 'precautions' inside. I doubt a community center really needs that much security."

The lithe spy hummed thoughtfully, opening a bag of cereal. "So, you have any ideas? We could probably sneak around the cameras…"

"Trust me, they've got every corner of the building covered. Whoever's running the deal's got plenty of dough."

"Then what do you propose we do?" She asked, already formulating a few possible plans.

Then, Clint smiled mischievously. She knew what that smile meant. His plan was crazy and he knew it. He also knew that she was going to go along with it. They both knew what the basics of the plan would involve. Not only were her arts of manipulation going to fall into play, but somehow explosives were probably going to be involved.

With his mischievous smile upturning into a roguish smirk, he said, "Tasha? Y'know how to plan a party?"

Clint pulled the hood of his sweatshirt a little lower, but left enough open for him to scan the streets outside of the alley. His partner had already gone ahead to get other necessities prepared. It turned out that Natasha did indeed know how to organize a party, or rather a sort of dance ball event thing. He wasn't sure what she called it, but whatever it was she could arrange one with ease.

So, it had fallen onto him to actually get part of the place rented. Renting it was no problem, but the one renting was also usually the one hosting. He didn't want the risk of being the center of attention during the party, for either of them. For that, he called in a favor from a friend he'd made years ago, before Coulson had dragged him out of the pit he'd dug himself into.

Before his mind could delve into that depressing matter, someone began to walk towards him. He looked up at the approaching footsteps that padded into the alleyway. A man with a half zipped up hoodie and frayed pants stood in front of him with a grin.

"Desmond," Clint said with a ghost of a smile.

"Ah, Jordan, It's good to see you again," Desmond's words were thick with a Russian accent, but his English was nearly flawless.

"Likewise," The archer muttered. "Listen I need to cash in on that favor…"

Desmond flicked his eyes nervously to the street, hoping his old friend wasn't asking him to do anything illegal. "What do you need?"

The sniper suppressed an amused smirk at the man's anxiety. "I need you to play host to a party on the outskirts. It's some sort of dance thing. I don't have the details, my girlfriend does, though," He said smoothly. The two assassins had already discussed their cover stories before and they decided to play the love struck couple out of a fairytale. Desmond knew better though. He would know the two were anything but what they would make themselves out to be.

"That's it? Why can't you do that yourself?" He asked with scrutiny.

Clint looked around before venturing deeper into the alleyway, motioning Desmond to follow. With a bit of hesitation the older man followed him around the corner to where he stood behind a dumpster.

"Desmond," Clint stated forcefully, conveying a sense of seriousness in his tone. "I need you to trust me on this."

The man fidgeted, "But…"

"I need you to trust me."

Desmond sighed in consent, after all how bad could it be? He would never guess his 'old friend' was a covert operative working for a secret organization that eradicated threats to international security and was here to dispose of an assassination drug lab. He never would have even guessed such a thing as within the range of possibility, and had anyone told him otherwise they'd be sporting a nasty black eye. So, it is as they say. 'Ignorance is bliss' and Desmond was perfectly fine with remaining in the dark, a dark he didn't even realize he was in.

"Fine, but if this turns out to be illegal, you're taking the blame."

Clint allowed himself a smirk at the adamant response. Blame. Ha, not only was their plan completely legal, well…sort of, but they wouldn't get caught, even if it wasn't legal. His eyes were blank, but underlain with amusement as he responded, "Deal."

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**Desmond? Go away, I don't want you to be important. **

**Haha, Thanks for reading! As every chapter before, reviews and constructive criticisms are appreciated!**


	7. Asylum

**Okay, this chapter was supposed to be edited and published Tuesday morning. I blame finals, underestimating editing time, and distractions.** **Also, watching 'Thor' does not count as a distraction. That's research.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

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After Tony had followed Pepper into the elevator for reasons none of them knew, Bruce had led the two Asgardians up the stairs. Turned out, Thor's room was on the top most floor, at least, of the three floors of bedrooms. He shared the large story with both Clint and Natasha, the former because of the height and the latter because of the former. So, in other words, the two Asgardians virtually had the entire level to themselves due to the other occupants being absent.

The walk up, Loki had kept completely silent, eyeing Bruce for the mildest sign of irritation. He didn't want to go another round with the other guy, especially in his weakened state. In contrast, Thor couldn't seem to shut his ever rumbling mouth. The trickster wasn't even sure what he was _talking_ about at this point. He'd given up on that prospect the second they touched the stairs.

It didn't take long for the trio to get there. Bruce opened the door for them and curiously stepped in after. Loki supposed the scientist hadn't seen it yet. It took him a minute for his eyes to adjust when he realized how much _red_ there was in the room. He gagged at the amount of the atrocious color; his brother on the other hand looked absolutely elated.

"Ah! Friend Stark even knew what color I favor!" The thunderer didn't seem to notice his younger brother cringing beside him.

"Yes, delightful," He muttered quietly, noticing Bruce's sympathetic expression. Why should _he_ care?

"Aye, Silvertongue, I know it is not your favored color, but I'm sure that can be remedied," Thor said, finally noticing Loki's annoyed expression at the hues of red littered across the room.

The trickster narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He flinched when Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder as the older Asgardian went to inspect the rest of the room.

"Hey, I'm sorry 'bout the…other guy throwing you around like that," He said with what at least sounded like sincerity.

He huffed. "Yes, that ordeal was positively _joyful,_" He muttered, his words fueled by the memories of broken bones in places he didn't even know he _had_ bones. His brain seemed to suddenly process what the scientist had said, however. "Wait, 'sorry?' You're sorry?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Surely the man meant only to lead him in to a false sense of peace and destroy him when he was at his most vulnerable point?

Bruce nodded, unaware of the silvertongue's deduction. "Yeah, honestly I don't really decide what he does, he kind of just takes over. All I can do is try to keep him under control." The scientist chose not to tell the young Asgardian of how the other guy was seething at the sight of him at the moment.

Loki bit his tongue at the 'try' part. He was inferring he hadn't complete control over the beast. No matter how mild mannered Bruce appeared, the trickster decided he could not be trusted. He nodded numbly anyway at the scientist in order to appear as if he agreed or understood.

He stiffened under the radiologist's hand when a roll of thunder rumbled across the sky. Thor grinned broadly at the sound, Mjolnir humming contently at his side. He didn't realize Bruce had noticed his body go rigid. The scientist eyed him analytically for a moment before dropping his hand back to his side. The sun had finally set and night had completely overtaken the sky with its shadowy visage and sparkling stars.

The trickster analyzed the room with a closer eye, noting all the bits and parts of it. There was only one bed, of which he was sure Thor would claim, and a smaller couch in front of a smaller television. Why Tony thought it was a good idea to have one of those in the Asgardian's room was beyond him. There were two doors to the left, one leading to a bathroom and the other to a spacious closet.

Noting with a bit of humor that there was no glass in the room sans the window, Loki strode over and sat down on the couch, staring off into the darkness through the window. It was easier than trying to get the bed. He didn't even _want _the bed. He had every intention to just feign sleep on the horrifically colored couch and be done with it. Thor thought differently, though, and seemed to notice the younger slowly feign letting the dream world envelop him.

"Brother," He started, Bruce standing awkwardly in the doorway, his curiosity getting the better of him, "If you wish to sleep on the bed…"

"No," Loki cut him off curtly. "I'm staying here." The trickster curled in on himself like a cat, forcing his eyes closed. He didn't trust the two beings in the room, not in the slightest. The least he could do was make them believe he trusted them enough to sleep in peace.

But he wouldn't sleep. He didn't need sleep. He had hardly slept in Asgard, he'd hardly sleep now. Besides, if he didn't sleep then the nightmares couldn't plague him.

Something warm and soft was draped over his body and he instinctively whirled around to snarl at the thunderer who would dare pity him. The insult died on his lips and he blinked in surprise as Bruce leaned over the couch with a look of sympathy, though a smirk played at the edges of his smile.

"You looked cold," He stated, flicking his eyes over purposefully to where Thor watched from his bed, unwilling to argue with the one he called a brother. The warrior seemed more than willing to let the matter go and allow the trickster to sleep.

Loki fingered the fabric, realizing its color was different than the rest of the room. Instead, it was colored with dark green, stark ebony tracing the edges. He almost smirked, noting Bruce's analytical assumptions. "I..," He couldn't say thank you. That would be downright _nice_. He didn't need to be nice to the man that had slammed him into the ground like a rag doll.

Though, now that he considered it, the man was being kinder to him than the other three occupants of the tower. Granted, he hadn't really talked to the soldier enough to warrant his realization as legitimate, but it would do for now. Maybe, the scientist wasn't lying. Maybe he actually had control over his anger because, without it, he would lose any control whatsoever.

Or maybe it was a ruse for the trickster to let his guard down. Yes, that seemed like the most probable reason. Loki stuck to that idea and clung to it, refusing to let any others worm their way into his mind.

Bruce straightened and walked out, content with leaving the silvertongue momentarily speechless. Thor lumbered after him, as silent as he could muster. The trickster almost snorted at the pathetic attempt at quietness.

He coiled into himself a bit more, subconsciously tugging the blanket closer. He didn't want to think about the beast right now. He could dwell on it later. Right now, he had to focus on not sleeping. At the moment, the darkness and peace of sleep seemed rather tempting, but he knew as soon as he gave in they would attack his dreams. He'd wake in a cold sweat with tears that would never fall. No, he didn't need that right now. Not surrounded by those he didn't trust. If he'd been alone, it'd have been fine, but he knew the artificial intelligence embedded throughout the tower watched.

Instead of giving into the slumber he knew he was so depraved of, he focused his mind on other things. Like Agent Barton. Never had he considered the sight would go both ways. That the Hawk had seen through his eyes. He wondered what the Midgardian had seen, and he wondered what _he_ had really seen. He knew the faces, but the situation made no sense.

What was left of his magic hummed a little louder at his conundrum. He felt for it, letting the soothing warmth spread thinly through his body. It felt good, though not as warm and comforting as when it was all there. The thought made his magic thrum in sadness, as if it missed its other half. As if it longed to be reunited with the rest.

And it would be, but it wouldn't hum contently against his chest and it would never fly again from his fingers in a dazzling light show of sparks and streams of energy. It would lie, sealed in Gungnir, dormant and forgotten, never to be used again.

He bit his tongue, shifting his thoughts away from the punishment. He would elongate it as long as possible, without enraging the Allfather into making it even worse. His thoughts streamed back to the Hawk. At the thought of him, his magic seemed to thrum faster, as if it had located part of its brethren, excited to 'see' it again. He closed his eyes, the familiar feeling enveloping him, his mind stretching to find the rest of his magic.

At first, it tugged upward, towards Asgard and where the larger part of his magic was, but he forced it back down, knowing nothing would come of reaching for something he could not currently obtain. Instead, he pushed it down and let it reach for its fellow remnant. As he felt the traces of his other magic 'come into view', he felt what was inside him begin to elate, trying to pull harder and faster. The trickster calmed it, and forced it to slow so that his mind wasn't fatigued to the point of being unable to finish the mental journey.

Finally it all but collided with its counterpart, but, at the same time, it didn't. It felt like he'd hit a mental wall of jello. He could push through it, but couldn't quite make it all the way in. Without Barton physically with him, his magic couldn't reunite with the remnant still in his mind. He settled to simply look through the barrier, his magic swirling in anticipation behind it for something that wouldn't come to pass. Not now at least.

He searched through the wall for a moment before colors suddenly appeared in his vision. A light blue haze of sky greeted him along with the puffy white clouds that littered the atmosphere. The Hawk glanced to his right, the peacefully sleeping form of the Widow gracing his eyes for only a moment before he could once again see nothing but sky. He'd done it. He could see through Barton's eyes again, this time of his own will.

Though, the accomplishment was short lived as he felt fatigue chase his magic back and his consciousness coiled back on itself from where it had stretched out to find the other remnant of his magic. He was exhausted as he realized the strain he'd evidently inflicted upon himself in a childish need to find the rest of what defined him. It was still there, trapped in the Hawk's mind. Though it hummed to a different heart beat, it still seemed content, as if waiting patiently for its counterparts to rejoin it.

Easing his eyes back open, he blinked at the darkness that greeted his weary eyes. Sitting up a little, he realized his magical journey must have been mistaken for sleep, as his brother appeared to have fallen to slumber on the bed, his hammer still in his hand. He snorted quietly at the idiotic way the oaf was currently sleeping in.

The trickster pushed himself higher up on the couch, leaning against the armrest. Though his body demanded rest and recuperation, his mind screamed the opposite, knowing full well what would come if he were to give in. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, the blanket feeling oddly comforting in the chill of night.

_You will long for something as sweet as pain._

Loki jumped at the whisper, whirling his head in all directions frantically. When he saw no sign of the Chitari, he relaxed, if only slightly. If they weren't here, then it was surely his mind playing tricks with him. He worried his subconscious had mistaken the darkness for sleep and decided to remind him of those horrible creatures that threatened him each night with their taunting screeches and their laughs of glee at his pain.

He stiffened at the thought. There was no way he could sleep now, but if the shadows would be just as bad, where could he go?

Easing back down, he curled up again, staring wide eyed at the television in front of him. He clenched his eyes shut at the whisper of a Chitari screech in his ear. They couldn't get him here. He was safe here. The Avengers were here. They couldn't get him here.

His hands held the blanket a little tighter as he scolded himself for thinking such childish things. It was stupid to think the Avengers would protect their enemy from those they thought his allies. How did the saying go? The enemy of my enemy…

Though that could work both ways. Loki certainly wasn't on good terms with the Chitari, but they didn't know that. None of them, not even Thor. His own mother was the only one he'd ever even thought of telling.

Playing with the idea of telling them, he considered the pros and cons. If they knew the Chitari resented him, they might feel the least bit sympathetic and at least keep them of his tail for a little while longer. Then again, they might as well hate him enough to send him to his doom.

But the Chitari weren't coming to Midgard. They couldn't. They had no such power, not to transport the amount of soldiers needed to do significant damage. Though, they wouldn't need that many to retrieve him alone.

He immediately pushed the thought away, banishing it to the back of his mind. He could dwell on that tomorrow. He would worry about it tomorrow.

But that tomorrow would never come.

Slowly, though his mind screamed in protest, his body gave in to the fatigue he'd subject himself to through the countless nights of little sleep. Though this night would be no different, he realized that the endless lack of rest had taken its toll on his weary body as the darkness enveloped him with its deceitful warmth.

In an effort to escape the fears, he was only hurting himself, and in more ways than one.

* * *

"Tell me what?" Tony asked in the dimmed elevator, Pepper's serious expression boring into his own.

She flicked her eyes downward and sighed. "I…saw something outside."

The genius arched an eyebrow in confusion. "Okay? What'd you see that's so important? A Chitari fleet?" He smirked at the joke, knowing that couldn't be true. He'd destroyed their fleet himself, he of all people would know it didn't exist anymore. His face fell at the solemn expression she wore, clearly conveying this was no joke.

"You're closer than you realize," She deadpanned, running a hand through her hair in exasperation. "I saw something that was definitely Chitari. It was like a ripple of blue light that tried to rip the sky open."

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He thought for a moment, the edges of worry seeping into his veins as memories of the vicious creatures resurfaced. His mind then went to the fact that their former leader was now _inside his tower_.

"Did you see it before or after the boom on the roof?" He asked hurriedly.

"Before," She stated with confidence.

It was Tony's turn to run a hand through his unkempt hair. He hissed under his breath and jammed the panic button again, the elevator moving downwards. He clicked the up arrow and the lift stopped and began to rise.

The second the doors opened he darted to his computer, opening several security feeds and searching for only one in particular. He found what he was looking for when he saw the footage of Thor sitting on what he had designated as his bed, and Loki adamantly denying he wanted such privilege from the couch.

He sighed in relief as he scanned the other feeds and nothing appeared out of order. All was well, and his two guests hadn't broken anything…yet. That alone was good news to hear. Pepper walked up beside him, watching the trickster whirl around with a snarl replaced by confusion when Bruce threw a blanket over his body.

"When did they get here?" She asked, truly only caring why the would-be world conqueror was there rather than their thunderous ally.

Tony slipped out a rolling chair from under the desk and fell into it, rubbing his eyes. "They fell onto my roof earlier," he stated simply.

That didn't really explain much, but she went with it. She hadn't really expected much of an explanation, not from Tony. She was actually a bit surprised he had even given her a somewhat serious answer. That was uncommon, at least for the genius.

"How long ago?" He asked referring to the blue light she had seen as he glanced at the sky outside, ravaged by wind and rain.

"Barton and Romanoff were racing down the stairs right before I saw it," She said, her mind instantaneously supplying the word 'racing' instead of something calmer like 'going'. They had been racing down them all right, and with agility and speeds that would impress the greatest of acrobats and speedsters.

He glanced back at her, not noticing Bruce and Thor leave to discuss something in the hall. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

She bit her lip. "I thought I was imagining things…" She muttered. "I wanted to think I was imagining things."

"Why?" He asked curiously.

Her eyes bore into his, filled with determination. "Because those creatures almost took you from me. I don't want them to try again," She whispered, voice stronger than it should be at her volume, but fueled with a passionate love. "I don't ever want to lose you again."

Tony's eyes softened and he realized why this woman meant so much to him. While the world looked at Tony Stark and saw the arrogant, albeit seemingly invincible, Iron Man, she looked at him and saw the vulnerability he hid behind a wall of faked emotions. She saw what he feared, and knew what the world didn't. Though Iron Man was what the world saw, she saw beneath the armor. She saw his heart and all that lay within it.

And even though she saw his mistakes, his fears, and his pains, she still chose to be with him. To love him. Despite everything that he, the former Merchant of Death, had done, she still chose to love him, while the world would only reject and mock him should they knew what he hid.

That is why he loved her, why she meant so much. She was what was really important in his life, and he wanted nothing more than to keep her safe. To shield her from the dangers that came with what he did. But could he?

Tony shook the thought away and smiled, pulling her close into an embrace. "I don't want to lose you either," He said reassuringly. Her lips grazed his cheek as she pulled away, smiling.

He didn't move from his spot, but swiveled back in his chair to watch the feeds again. She stood contemplatively for a moment, alternating between watching him and the screens.

"Are you going to keep watching them?" She asked curiously.

The genius considered the thought, and nodded. "Yeah, I'm not sleeping with Blitzen above my head," he muttered with a scowl.

Pepper watched him for another moment before replying. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

He smirked to himself. "That will be all, Miss Potts."

She left the room, the elevator clicking closed and chiming behind her. Tony enlarged the screen of the room the two Asgardians were sleeping in. Thor had returned to the bed and appeared to have succumbed to slumber, but he didn't care about him right now. He was more worried about the trickster. He watched intently, noticing how he seemed to sleep, but he caught something Thor had missed.

Loki continuously twitched, whether it was his fingers or his mouth, it was repetitive, but ended not long after Tony had started watching. The trickster opened his eyes and looked around in bewilderment, before sitting up. The genius' hand instinctively went to the keyboard, waiting for any sign to sic his security systems on the Asgardian.

But Loki made no such notion, simply pulling his knees up toward him and looking for the entire world like a stricken child. He wasn't guarding anything, but still his eyes looked unreadable. That is until they snapped open, shining with a sudden fear, and he whirled around frantically searching for something that wasn't there.

Tony narrowed his eyes at the movement. What was the trickster seeing, or hearing, that had him in such a fright? He resolved to figure it out in the morning, but for now, was content to watch as Loki leaned back down, running his hands through his hair and staring wide eyed at nothing. He realized he'd probably seen something the trickster hadn't intended be seen and wondered if bringing it up would only bring harm.

Well, no pain no gain.

He leaned back in his chair as Loki drifted into sleep. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep himself until he was awoken by the sharp sound of a gasp from the computer. He narrowed his eyes in confusion as Loki looked up from where he'd rolled onto the floor, his eyes shining with vulnerability, desperation, and fear. He'd never seen those emotions from the trickster before; he hadn't even considered he could. But there was no mistaking it; Loki was absolutely terrified by whatever had happened beforehand.

"JARVIS?" Tony asked, his words quiet despite no one being there. "What was he doing right before he woke up?"

"Sleeping, sir," The AI replied. "Though, it appears his heart rate increased suddenly right before he awoke."

Tony thought for a moment before asking, "Was he talking in his sleep?"

"Yes, sir, but in words that are not in my database."

He clicked a few keys on his keyboard, deciding to upload the Old Norse language into his computer when he got the chance. He blinked in bewilderment when Loki didn't go back to sleep. Instead he began searching for something, the fear lifting and veiling with each passing second.

"What's he looking for?" Tony whispered in amusement. He dismissed the idea that the trickster was looking for something that could bring about world domination. That was stupid. It was late at night, and the utterly terrified look in his eyes told Tony more than a thousand words ever could.

Loki wasn't going to take over the world. Not today, at least.

He watched as the trickster rummaged in the closet for a moment and triumphantly pulled out a rubber ball. The billionaire had no idea how it'd gotten there, but his thoughts were cut off as Loki slumped against the back of the couch and began rhythmically tossing it against the wall.

Craning his neck, he realized just how tired the trickster was, judging by the shadowy rings under his eyes. He continued to bounce the ball, refusing to let his eyes close and give into the temptation of sleep. Whatever had awoken him, he didn't want to risk returning to it.

He couldn't help but feel a little empathy for the trickster, knowing what it was like to wake up suddenly, drenched in sweat with haunting words and memories whispering through your mind. He'd gone through enough of that to know what it was like, to know what Loki was feeling. Unlike Loki, however, he hadn't been scarred to the point of being afraid to sleep. He supposed he had Pepper to thank for that.

Tony watched for a little longer as Loki continually bounced the ball, but nothing changed. He leaned back farther in his chair, letting his eyes close.

"JARVIS, wake me if anything changes."

"As you wish, sir."

JARVIS wouldn't have to wake him, because nothing would change. For hours, Loki would sit and bounce the ball against the wall absent mindedly, his thoughts on other things. Just as how it'd been in Asgard, he wouldn't sleep, wouldn't rest, and wouldn't dream.

Because if he didn't dream, there would be no nightmares. If there were no nightmares there were no fears. If there were no fears, there was no vulnerability and vulnerability was the last thing he wanted to feel.

What he didn't know, was that, as his magic thrummed to another heart beat, the Hawk was thinking the same thing.

* * *

**There was reason I had Thor and Bruce both leave the room, but by the time I got back to them in the writing process, I had forgotten that reason. Oh, well. **

**Thanks for reading and thanks for your reviews! They're greatly appreciated~**


	8. Stealth and Sight

**Sorry for the delay! Updates probably won't be as regular as when I started this from now on. Sorry about that, I'd expect a new chapter every few days or so. **

**Enjoy~**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Natasha fingered the smooth, red dress that flowed down past her knees as she reviewed the photos and information on the table one last time. Her partner stood close by, wearing black cargo pants and a t shirt obscured by a half zipped black jacket. His quiver was slung haphazardly over his back, his bow in his hand, and a gun holstered at his hip. It had only been six days since they arrived in Moscow and Clint had surveyed the community center each night, no matter how much she tried to persuade him to slumber. His arguments always consisted of the same thing; the avoidance of the nightmares. She had given up by the third day to try and get him to sleep, and had simply left him to his work on the roofs of Moscow.

She glanced at him. "Are you sure this'll work?"

"It will," He stated emphatically.

Straightening, she slid a finger down the flat end of the blade of her knife, wishing she could bring it with her to the party. She knew she wouldn't need it, and that Clint carried a gun for her for when she needed it, but it always felt strange when she walked with no weapons. She felt slightly less confident, more vulnerable, without a blade by her side.

One picture caught her eye as she turned to leave. It wasn't one from SHIELD. Clint had thrown it on the table the other night after coming back from another scope out, pointing to it and stating that the person in the picture was the one who would host the party for them. It was slightly blurry, but she could clearly see the face of the man, of Desmond. He was a man out of Clint's past, a man she did not know and did not fully trust. That was what had her nervous.

"Tell me why we should trust Desmond, again?" She asked warily. Though Natasha had faith in her partner above everything else she knew, she couldn't find it in her to automatically trust someone Clint trusted. After all, not everyone the archer trusted had proven themselves worthy of his trust in the end.

Clint crossed his arms, eyes going distant. "I saved his life. He owes it to me."

The lithe spy arched an eyebrow, her curiosity peaked. Before she could inquire further, however, her partner began walking towards the door.

"We should go," He said quietly.

She nodded, following him. "Agreed."

They walked to the black sedan outside, Natasha sliding into the driver's seat and Clint taking his spot next to her. She eased out of the driveway, pulling into the minimal traffic towards their destination. They drove in silence, her Hawk's eyes constantly roving and analyzing over everything he saw, no matter how insignificant. It was one of the traits of his paranoia, something he'd dealt with ever since she knew him. He always seemed to be looking over his shoulder, always watching for something that didn't come.

It was like something was chasing him and it irked her that she didn't know what it was. She had tried to bring it up a few times before, but he had swiftly deflected the questions and derailed to a completely different topic. She finally decided he'd tell her in time, and waited patiently for such a point.

Clint glanced back at his partner, noticing things about her without knowing how she was analyzing him herself. He saw a woman who carried herself like no other, with an air of grace and beauty that veiled the underlying blade that one could see if one looked deep enough. But no man would look underneath her beauty, because that's all they wanted to see. It made them blind to the imminent death that awaited them.

But there was something deeper, something more sorrowful; a pain and guilt that had been building for years since before they met. She carried something more than her beauty; a shame for past transgressions and a determined desire to make it right. She wanted to fix that which she had broken, and prevent others from falling down a similar path.

In a way they had walked down the same roads, both carrying burdens of guilt from things that had happened in the past. They had both dug themselves into pits thought too deep to be dragged out of. But both had been saved, both now lived to repair and sustain what had been destroyed. They both lived to serve the same purpose. They both longed to destroy evil before it could take root and taint innocence just as it had to them.

But for them, there had been no one to destroy the evil, no one to stop the stains it spilled. They had both been caught up in its flood, yet both had been rescued from its raging waves. They both walked the same roads, yet different ones altogether, for though Coulson had saved Clint, Clint had saved Natasha; each rescued from the waters of evil's flood.

But the flood continued to flow, and innocence still consumed by it. That is why they worked with SHIELD. Not only to give them a home, to save themselves from the waters, but to save others by hindering the flow, destroying that which fueled it.

It was a wonderful feeling, to aid those in need, save those who could not save themselves. Though the victims would never see nor know their rescuers, the two assassins still took joy in saving those who they would never meet. They had saved countless six months ago in the battle, but so many had been saved before. The blood that dripped from their ledgers was far surpassed by the myriad of names that had been rescued.

Though their work still spilled blood, it saved more than was lost. The flood of evil had been slowed, but still continued to pour and as long as it flowed, they would continue to work to stop it.

Natasha pulled over a block from the community center, raising an eyebrow at the amount of cars parked at the building in the distance.

"I have to admit, Desmond did good," She said as Clint opened his door and slipped out.

He smirked, leaning in the doorway. "Yeah, he's amazing at this stuff." The Hawk let his hand intertwine with hers before pulling away. "Good luck, мой паук." _(My spider)_

She smiled, her hand slipping from his. "Likewise, мой ястреб." _(My hawk) _

Clint shut the door and backed into the alleyway she had dropped him off at. As he watched her pull away to the party, he turned and walked into the dark passage. He glanced up, a faintly rusty fire escape running up the side of the building. He grabbed the bottom rung and began to systematically pull himself up.

He made quick work of the escape, jumping up onto the flat roof. He crouched, slinking to the other side, glancing around at his surroundings and taking note of the multiple escape routes. He watched silently from his perch on the edge of the roof as Natasha pulled into the parking lot and strode confidently into the building, all eyes turning to her and only seeing the beauty that masked the intent underneath. He smirked.

Game on.

* * *

Natasha stepped out of the car and walked confidently to the building, heels clicking behind her. She pushed aside the glass door, glancing around the foyer. A sign pointing to the left indicated Desmond's party. With an expertly concealed glance of wariness around the room, she strode in that direction, noting cameras and other security measures. She also noted that the camera coverage inside the building wasn't as extensive as it was outside. They probably assumed their outside footage was enough to keep unwanted guests out.

She turned a corner, finding the indicated door for their party. Her heels clicking against the tile, she pushed the door open. She almost stumbled back at the onslaught of techno and dubstep that drowned the room. She quickly shut the door behind her, marveling at the flashing lights and glow sticks filling the room. A disc jockey bobbed his head in time with the music at the head of the room, several glowing rings hanging from his neck and arms.

"Perfect," She whispered, smiling. She hadn't thought of this kind of party even going down in a community center, but she assumed Clint had mentioned certain details to Desmond; things such as keeping a low profile. What better way to do that than to get lost in the chaos of the loud music and dancing?

The lithe spy slipped between the bodies, training her ears on the conversations around her and ignoring the deafening music best she could. On the plus side, said conversations had to be yelled to even be heard which made eavesdropping that much easier. Mostly all she could hear was cheering and whooping from adrenaline seeking teenagers and young adults. However, there were a few gems in the dirt she caught in her ventures around the room.

"…make sure no one heads downstairs."

"Watch for idiots stumbling the halls…"

"Don't let them in the basement…"

That was all she needed to hear to confirm her suspicions for the activity a few feet below her. She glanced around, her eye catching a vent underneath one of the serving tables. Continuing her concealed surveillance, she saw no sign of cameras anywhere. This surprised her somewhat, but also amazed her. Either Desmond was incredibly perceptive or Clint had had a hand in it more than she had expected.

"Hey," A thickly Russian accented voice called.

She turned to meet it, smiling at the man. "Desmond."

"Вы должны быть подругой Иордании," He said with a grin. _(You must be Jordan's girlfriend.)_

"да," She confirmed. _(Yes)_

He smiled knowingly, "Я надеюсь, вы не возражаете, я сделал модификацию." _(I hope you don't mind the modifications I made.)_

"нет, не хорошо," The lithe spy smiled. _(No, you did good.)_

Desmond eyed her for a moment, appearing to mull over something. "Существует больше вы двое, чем то, что я знаю," He murmured. (_There is more to you two than what I know) _

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. He knew they weren't who they said they were, but he didn't push the subject as he nodded and walked away.

Natasha stared after him for a moment in wariness. She still wasn't sure if she completely trusted the man out of her partner's past, but there was no going back now. With a glance around the party goers, confirming none were looking her direction, she slipped under the table, the clothe obscuring her from view.

She silently slid the cover of the opening off with a satisfying click and set it against the wall. With an annoyed glance at her attire she slipped into the graciously large vent. She'd been in worse places with more pressing situations before; this would be a piece cake.

The metal barely creaked under her weight as she shifted through the maze of tunnels in the ceiling. She hadn't had much time to survey the entire building, but from what she'd gathered she could make an educated guess on the security area's location.

The camera's only had to go dark for a minute or two. That was all that Clint would need. He'd never needed more than that and by the amount of time he'd had to study the center, he'd probably already scouted several different entrances and exits that could be made without the use of doors.

Although it would have been easier to sneak him in under the pretext of him also going to the party, there was no way they could hide their weapons in such a state. Besides, where was the fun in that? That and Clint saw better from a distance, were anything to come up that they had not previously planned upon, he'd have her back.

She stopped over a grate that was above a small room filled with screens, mostly showing outside. Two guards sat lazily below, watching in boredom. Natasha slid the grate from its spot in one silent motion, setting it on the wall of shelves that sat against the wall. She jumped down with a swift blow to the back of the first guard's head, the second having no time to react before a loud crack filled the air and he fell from his seat.

Natasha straightened from her spot, one of the screens catching her eye. She stopped to watch it for a moment, noticing it looked suspiciously like a drug lab. She checked the label, noting it read 'basement'. In a flicker, the footage changed to a normal looking basement. She assumed part of the underground room had been left as is to keep up the ruse.

Leaning over the keyboard, she clicked several keys, each outside camera going dark before its internal counterparts followed. She smirked and stood, slipping the keys off one of the guard's belt.

"Your move, Hawk."

* * *

Clint nocked an arrow and lifted his bow, aiming from his crouched position on the rooftop at the small black car that pulled into the parking lot. His eyes trailed each movement, the unusual speed at which it moved, the careful precision with which it turned, and the worn tires that burned with overuse. It was a transport car. Something was being shipped here, or was being picked up.

He eased his bow down, gripping it tightly, and leaped to the rooftop opposite his, one rooftop closer to the community center. It'd been ten minutes since Natasha had moved in and he waited patiently for her to make her move, though the transport might prove a bit of unexpected trouble.

Landing in a roll, the archer slinked to the edge of his new roof and flicked his gaze to the hidden camera close by, but not within his range. He smirked when its glowing green light flipped off, followed closely by its counterparts. Natasha had done her job, now it was his turn.

The sniper watched the two men park their car and walk into the building. Maybe they could serve a use after all…

He pushed off the building, using the window sills as only one skilled in parkour could; as stairs. He leaped off each one, landing on the next, systematically and safely making it to the ground. The community center was surrounded by grass and shrubbery, though it was covered in a layer of frost. Subconsciously tugging his jacket closer, he sprinted to the side of the building, easing a window he'd identified as unlocked from his perch open. Slipping in, he ran quietly down the halls, Natasha's gun clicking against his hip with every step.

As he turned a corner, he spied the two men from before walking seemingly innocently down the hall. With purpose to his stride, Clint walked silently up behind them.

When one turned to glance behind him it was too late, as the archer twisted the gun out of his hand, throwing it to the ground far away. He grabbed the man's head, a crack sounding not long after. The action only took a few seconds, as the second man suddenly noticed the sniper that stood over his companion. He ripped his own gun from its holster but it slipped from his hold when someone dropped from the ceiling and tore it from his grasp.

With the lithe spy training the gun on the man's head, Clint straightened from where he crouched and flicked through the wallet of the dead man.

"Почему ты здесь?" He asked, despite being fairly certain he already knew the answer. _(Why are you here?)_

The man sucked in a sharp breath, terror shining in his eyes. "Я был только для перемещения товаров! Я клянусь!" _(I was only to move the goods! I swear!)_

Natasha eyed him for a moment before noticing the briefcase on the ground. She motioned to it and her partner moved accordingly.

He clicked it open and, finding a good amount of cash inside, snapped it back closed. He patted his hip, raising an eyebrow at her, silently asking if she wanted her gun despite the one she held in her hand.

She nodded and he slipped it out, sliding it into her unoccupied hand.

Hefting the briefcase up, Clint began walking in the direction of the basement. There was a muffled scream from behind before the lithe spy joined him.

"Change of plans," He muttered.

She arched an eyebrow, but waited for him to explain.

"Just trust me, Nat."

"Always," She breathed with a smirk. She trusted him now in the heat of the mission and she trusted him in the lulls of their lives. She would always trust him.

He turned, a set of stairs leading downward before them. Jerking his head in that direction, they began to trek along the metal stairs, gun cocked and arrow strung. It took only a few moments for them to reach the bottom, the basement in view. The large metal door looked innocent enough, but as Clint pressed an ear against it, he heard what he needed to confirm there was anything but innocent activity behind it.

He slung his quiver off and collapsed his bow, pushing both into her hands. At the same time, he slipped the gun that wasn't hers out of her palm. She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing when he mouthed 'trust me.'

Easing the door open, Clint signaled for his partner to linger behind him. He didn't want her to get hurt if there was someone who went by the 'shoot first, ask questions later' policy. It's not like he loved her or anything, but they needed someone healthy to drag out the injured if push came to shove. At least, that's what he told himself, but he knew it ran deeper than that; that there were stronger feelings that played in his actions. But it wasn't love. Love was for children.

He directed his attention back to the door as it swung to its full extent. He sucked in a sharp breath.

No less than five rifles were aimed at him, all their owners appearing eager to fire. Nine more men stood not far away, their own guns at their sides.

Clint hissed under his breath, letting his gun drop from its position to feign consent. He wordlessly slid the briefcase over to them, knowing the Kevlar he wore would protect him from at least a couple of the shots if the trigger happy men got too anxious.

A woman slipped between the guns and leaned over to pick up the briefcase, her form slender and clad in black with long blonde hair hiding one of her eyes. She eyed the money for a moment before snapping the case closed.

"Lower your weapons," She replied, her voice as thick with a Russian accent as Desmond's, confirming her origin. Clint narrowed his eyes vaguely at the English. Why would she reply with English when in her native country?

The men each lowered their gun, throwing the archer a wary gaze before turning back to the various contraptions on the number of tables in the room.

The sniper waved a hand behind his back, and Natasha drew away silently, slipping out of sight. There was obviously something he saw that she hadn't and she would trust his judgment. After all, when had the Hawk's eyes ever lied?

As he stepped inside the basement, the doors slammed closed behind him and she hissed under her breath. Scrambling closer to the door, she pressed an ear against the metal, worry spiking through her heart. What had her Hawk gotten himself into now?

* * *

**Do they have rave parties in Russia? I don't know, but they do now.**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are always appreciated~**


	9. More than a Nightmare

**This chapter was edited pretty hastily, so I apologize for any mistakes within. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Loki stubbornly stared at the wall, the ball bouncing rhythmically. He hadn't slept for several hours since the Chitari had once again invaded his dreams, turning them into twisted nightmares of terror. Even though they weren't there, they still caused him pain; still made him suffer. A fear that had not been present before was now continuously dragged up every time he closed his eyes to rest. He hated it. The fear made him feel weak, vulnerable even.

He didn't want to be weak. He already knew he was weak; he'd always been classified as weak, as different. He'd always be different, he knew from the start he was different, but he had no idea the truth was to such an extent. There was no way he could be anything but different now.

The clock nearby chimed with the announcement of the hour reaching seven in the morning, rousing him from his musings. The trickster let the ball linger in his hand a little longer this time, wondering how much trouble he'd get in if he went downstairs. Thor's snoring was making it hard to think.

After weighing several pros and cons, Loki decided to give it a shot and slipped out the door, giving the blasted camera he knew was there a pointed look that clearly said he wasn't leaving to blow up half of Manhattan. He padded through the carpeted hallway, two plain doors leading to separate rooms the only other things on the floor. He began to silently tread down the stairs, his years of prank escapes having taught him plenty in the skills of stealth.

It didn't take long for the trickster to reach the main living room. It hadn't changed since he last saw it, the only thing that could've been classified as different being the man that lounged by the high-tech computer.

Tony watched him walk off the staircase and sit down on the couch. He leaned back into the couch and began to toss the ball in the air, catching it each time it fell. He wondered what the silvertongued Asgardian had been dreaming about, and, despite knowing it might open old scars or rip new ones open, he decided to ask as such.

He was Tony Stark, after all. When one was Tony Stark, one did not consider the consequences of their actions to a very far extent. Unfortunately for him, that had often caused him more pain than it was worth. He only hoped this wasn't one of those times.

"You didn't sleep," he muttered, with a bored, underlying curiosity. It was a fact; a fact that both were aware of.

Loki glanced at the billionaire, not pausing in his tossing. "You didn't either," He stated, an attempt at shifting the conversation away from himself. It was futile, though. The genius wanted to know something and he wasn't about to let something like conversational changes stop him.

"We both know why I didn't sleep," He said; another fact, "But only one of us knows why _you_ didn't."

The ball was held with a little more hesitation this time as the trickster's eyes flicked downward, memories sparking and shooting through the forefront of his mind. It had taken six months for him to even consider telling his own mother what plagued his nightmares and kept him from sleeping. He knew if he even gave Stark the smallest of hints, the genius would not cease his questions until he obtained the answers he desired.

So he stayed silent, watching as the ball occasionally flew into the rafters if he gave it enough force. He felt Stark's eyes bore into the back of his head, waiting for him to answer. But he wouldn't answer; he wouldn't give the billionaire the satisfaction.

The quiet continued for a few minutes, the only sound being the ball thumping against Loki's hand. Apparently the silence was too much for Stark to handle.

"Where did you even get that?" He asked finally.

The trickster threw him a annoyed, but confused glance. "In the…closet?" He said as if it were obvious. Surely the genius should know what he kept in his own tower. He kept Stark's gaze for a moment before turning back to his tossing.

"You didn't…conjure one up, or anything? It was just…there," He questioned, utter bewilderment as to why there was a rubber ball in the tower at all. What use could it possibly serve?

"Yes, Stark, it was just _there_," Loki deadpanned in minor annoyance.

"Can you do that? Just make one whenever?" The genius continued, at this point beginning to babble and not really listening to whether the trickster answered or not. "Or would it be an illusion like in Germany?"

Loki sighed, tuning out the genius as he continued to toss the ball. He stayed silent as the billionaire continued to bombard him with questions he wasn't going to answer. Instead his mind, twisted in the original direction, towards where the conversation had started.

Obviously, Tony had been watching him for dangerous and suspicious conduct; that much he could deduce. What he could also deduce was that the genius had also seen him nearly drowning in his fear. That was something he didn't want him to see. Something he didn't want anyone to see. No one had ever seen him after he was ripped ever so violently from his nightmares and he was sure he was the picture of a terrified child when that happened.

So, why of all people did Tony Stark have to be the one that saw his raw fear; that saw the vulnerability? That was the last thing he wanted. He didn't need his enemies to see him so weak. They would only exploit what they saw or heard, he was sure. Nothing good could come of this. Nothing. Part of him wished all his magic could've just been torn out of him back in Asgard so he could go to Jotunheim and not have to deal with all this.

He'd never planned to deal with the fallout. Then again, he hadn't planned on failing six months ago. Now that failure was coming back to haunt him. It hung over his head like a boulder held by a thread, the threats and promises of pain from the Chitari constantly plaguing his mind.

He could never get away. They were always there, whether it was in the forefront of his conscious or a whispering voice in the back of his head. The screeches and hoarse murmurs were always underlying his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried to suppress them, they always returned.

The trickster was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Stark had walked up behind him. He only noticed when the ball didn't land in his hand as it should've. He blinked in confusion for a moment before he realized the genius was standing by the couch, the rubber ball in his hand. His hand dropped back to his side from where it had been poised to catch the ball.

"What?" He asked, a snarl underlying his tone.

Tony arched an eyebrow, but passed over the trickster's comment as if he hadn't heard. Instead, he went back to where the conversation started, to what Loki had been dwelling on.

"It's nightmares isn't it?" He said knowingly, his words sounding more like fact rather than a question.

Loki furrowed his brow and bit his lip, eyes shifting from the ceiling above to the slowly lightening skyline out the window, the rain still trickling from persistent clouds.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The billionaire let his hand fall to his side, the ball still in his hand. "But you do know don't you?" He replied, his words again managing a matter of fact tone rather than a questioning one.

The trickster didn't reply, but did cross his arms against his chest in a mild form of defiance that clearly indicated he refused to answer.

Tossing the ball in his hand absentmindedly and sidling around the couch to sit on its arm, Tony continued, "You know you're not the only one with nightmares, right?"

Loki glanced at him, sudden curiosity twinkling in his narrowed green eyes. Good, he'd gotten him to actually listen. If this was how he had to get the mischief maker to talk, then so be it.

Leaning back on the couch, Tony fingered the ball idly. "I get them too, y'know." He glanced back at the trickster, conveying a seriousness uncharacteristic of him.

Loki shifted on the couch, eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"What?"

"Why should you care?" The trickster asserted with an annoyed glare.

The billionaire blinked, mulling over the one word question. Why? The suspicion in the trickster's voice was palpable, underlain with mistrust. Why did he want to know? Maybe it was his constant need to learn, to discover and uncover new truths and reveal that which was never seen before. Maybe it was his curiosity, endlessly wishing to be fulfilled. Maybe it was because he actually did care.

He immediately dismissed the last thought. No, this creature next to him was a monster that had tried to conquer his world. There was no way he could _care_.

But the image of a terrified Loki from the video feed shot to the forefront of his thoughts and he realized the one next to him was not a monster. No monster could feel that fear, that utter terror. He was something less than a monster, but still no angel.

Finally, he shrugged. "I just wanna know. I'm curious."

Loki huffed and sunk deeper into the couch.

"No."

His answer, though there had been no question, was curt, dripping with venom. It almost made the genius wince. The trickster threw him a heated glare, his head beginning to sting with pain.

_There is no place where we will not find you._

He shot up from his leaned back position with such unexpectedness Tony fell from his perch on the couch's arm. His eyes frantically scanned the area, ignoring the billionaire's annoyed mutterings.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked with the creature, the Other, that stood in the middle of the room. However, when he blinked, the creature was gone.

There was something dangerously close to panic settling in the pit of his stomach, and he knew his breathing was picking up against his will. The memories of the Chitari flashed across his vision and he swallowed thickly, eyes trying to focus on something solid, something that was reality and not nightmare. But they couldn't. His mind only supplied past terrors and potential pain for him to try and anchor himself to.

The genius was talking, trying to say something, but Loki couldn't hear. In desperation he felt for his magic, the only constant that remained, and shoved it out, letting it stretch to the Hawk's mind.

_You will long for something as sweet as pain. _

The words hissed in his ear, trying to bring his consciousness back to the living nightmare. He couldn't let that happen, so he pushed his magic farther, his eyes appearing glazed and blank to the Midgardian. With a sudden stop, he slammed against the mental wall, hissing at himself for probably causing the Hawk a great deal of pain in his haste. This time, he didn't search the wall, instead attaching to it like the anchor it was.

He could feel the toll the journey was taking on him, black dots swirling in his vision. The screeches were getting louder, growling and yelling in his ears as hot stings of pain ripped across his skin.

_We will find you, Trickster. _

Finally he fell to the ground in unconsciousness, unaware that anyone else but Tony had been around; unaware he had been speaking to himself, unaware of the hot tears that filled his eyes.

Now, he was unaware of everything as the world faded to black, all sounds and sights disappearing in the deceptive warmth of ebony.

* * *

Tony pushed himself up from where he'd fallen off the couch, the rubber ball forgotten as it rolled away with what little momentum it had. He blinked in confusion at the stiffened form of Loki, his eyes glazed and mouth moving, but no words coming out.

"Green Eyes?" He asked, standing. He heard someone run down the stairs, flicking his gaze over to meet Steve's.

He didn't hear the super solider as he scrambled over to see what had happened. The only thing his mind processed was the way the trickster's fingers twitched. They moved in the exact same way as they had the night before. He was repeating something, but what action had he done last night that had spurred him into a faux state of sleep that he would need to repeat now?

He edged closer to the Asgardian, not hearing JARVIS wake the other three occupants. Now that he was closer, he could hear faint whispers from the trickster's mouth.

"Suffer…" The rest was too quiet to make out.

"…find me…" Was the only other thing he caught before Loki gasped and collapsed onto the ground.

"Brother!" Tony hadn't even noticed Thor had come in, but most certainly noticed when he was all but shoved aside as the thunderer pushed past him.

The warrior knelt by his younger sibling, sighing in relief at what he saw. Unfortunately, he appeared to be the only one relieved in the room.

"Tony, what happened?" Bruce asked as he ran into the room, JARVIS having informed the others of the basics of the occurrence.

The billionaire ran a hand through his hair. "I…I'm not sure," He admitted. One minute the trickster was stubbornly defying him, the next he was terrified of something only he could see.

The scientist, exasperated and wanting answers, turned to Thor. "Do you know what happened?"

Thor leaned back slightly, pulling his brother's limp form onto the unoccupied couch as Pepper ran in.

"Aye, I only know he forced himself into unconsciousness."

"How would you even know that?" Tony blurted before anyone could respond, his curiosity once again butting in before the logical part of his brain could get a word in, edgewise.

The older Asgardian straightened. "My brother often 'knocked himself out', as you Midgardians call it, when his pranks led to unforeseen consequences. It was part of a ploy for sympathy that frequently saved him from severe punishment. Although, I believe this time sympathy was not his goal," He added the last part as an afterthought, knowing the others would jump to assumptions without an immediate contradiction.

Steve walked closer as Pepper moved to stand next to Tony. "So, what was his goal, then?" He asked, mistrust and wariness veiling his tone.

Nobody answered, but all looked to the billionaire, knowing he had been the only one in the room to truly see what had transpired. Mulling over what had happened and what he'd seen last night, the genius came up with a single, sure conclusion.

"Escape," He said plainly.

They all gave him a collective blank look, Pepper mouthing a 'what?' beside him.

"Could you…explain further?" Steve requested in slight confusion.

Tony began pacing as he spoke, "He was seeing something and whatever that something was had him locked up in terror," He said, his tirade beginning. "And he was talking too, but all I heard was something about suffering and someone finding him."

The four others present seemed to mull over the explanation, but they all seemed to turn to Thor for further clarification, hoping the Asgardian could tell them who it was the trickster was afraid of.

The warrior seemed to sense their expectant gazes as he looked up, an answer for their unspoken question in his mind.

"The Chitari."

Pepper sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes wide as the memory of the light she saw shot through the forefront of her thoughts. Tony, as well, sensed his CEO's realization and his breathing hitched slightly. Neither Steve nor Bruce knew of the depth those two words held and only Thor knew of the deep wounds the Chitari had inflicted on his brother, even if the only wounds he knew of were that of the mind control.

"Are you sure?" Pepper asked carefully, hoping she had misheard.

"What other possibilities do you see, Lady Potts?"

She groaned quietly and ran a hand through her disheveled hair, subconsciously easing towards the resident Iron Man.

"What's wrong?" Bruce inquired, the faintest hint of worry in his tone.

"A lot," She muttered. There was so much wrong. Everything was going wrong. The Chitari were coming back, their former leader was in Avengers Tower, and a third of the team wasn't even here. Great.

"I have reason to believe the Chitari are trying to return to Earth," She revealed, anxiety spiking through her veins. Motioning to the limp body of Loki she continued, "And I think we have the reason why."

Bruce put both his hands on his head and groaned as Thor stood with his mouth agape.

"But…how? The Chitari were defeated when the Man of Iron destroyed their entire fleet!"

Tony stepped forward. "I think all our answers are lying unconscious on the couch," He said looking at the trickster.

Steve sighed loudly. "Then we have to wait for our answers to wake up," He muttered.

The five of them stood there awkwardly for a few moments, unsure of what to do next, before Bruce broke the tension and walked over to the kitchen. He pulled out a box of pop tarts and motioned to the rising sun outside.

"I think we need to eat breakfast. Our answers will come if we're patient."

The soldier nodded numbly and ambled over, Tony and Pepper following. Thor, however, did not move from his brother's side, choosing instead to sit in a smaller chair next to the couch and wait for the trickster to wake.

It was only then did he once again see the dark rings under his brother's eyes. He remembered back to Asgard and the way the younger had avoided telling him of when he slept. He understood now. Loki hadn't slept, and when he did it didn't last long. Sleep had proven to be anything but an escape into a shadowy peace. He chose not to sleep, because he was afraid; afraid of what awaited him in the black ebony of unconsciousness.

So why would he spur himself into the coma like state when that itself was the root of the problem? He could only think of one answer, an answer that worried him.

It meant the dreams were mixing with reality and Loki was desperately trying to find an escape. But there was no escape, not from what he endured. Truth and nightmare were quickly intertwining in a mass of confusion and terror and not even the Liesmith himself could tell one from the other.

And that was what frightened him. Whatever plagued his brother was strong. It also had to be smart and terrifying in order to instill such a fear within his normally calm and collected younger brother. He knew it had to be the Chitari because they had been inside the trickster's head, forcing him to do their bidding. He knew because Loki had told him and he had told Odin in an attempt to sway his and the council's consequences for the young Asgardian.

Of course, neither acted like they cared, but he suspected they had at least considered his words. But now, it mattered not. The punishment had been all but forgotten and a protective brotherly instinct had taken over.

The Chitari wanted his brother, of that much he was sure, but there was no way he was going down without a fight.

* * *

_There was fire everywhere. Asgard was burning. His friends were burning. The king was burning. His brother was burning._

_Everything was burning._

_And he stood in the middle of it all, no flame licking his skin and no heat felt from the emanating fire. He felt nothing, but felt everything. _

_The Chitari ship hovered above the once great city. They had come for one thing and nothing was going to stop them. _

_They had come for him. They weren't going to kill him. They were going to make him suffer. _

_As he saw the Chitari soldiers come around the corner, he fled. Tearing through the mutilated streets he knew so well. They gave chase, unending. Their screeches echoed in his ears and their threats of pain still hung so delicately above his head. _

_Suddenly he was on the Bifrost, its crystalline rainbows glowing with every step he took. He could hear them. Even after burning everything he knew to the ground they still pursued him. Had he not suffered enough?_

_But that would not satisfy them. Nothing would, not until they had the trickster in their clutches and unraveled his very essence to the point where he no longer knew who he was, and only longed for the sweet ebony embrace of death. _

_But they wouldn't give it to him. He would suffer under their hand for failing. _

_"You will long for something as sweet as pain," The voice whispered hauntingly in the back of his mind. _

_He plucked Heimdall's sword from the gatekeeper's body and drove it into the machine, the light of the Bifrost shooting out. He cared not that leaving it open would destroy whatever he landed on. _

_Throwing himself into the bright light, he flew through space, a small comfort and warmth enveloping him, before he crashed into the icy barren ground. _

_Jotunheim._

_They were waiting for him. They were going to kill him. The Bifrost was gone. Tendrils of blue crawled across his skin as the Frost Giants ambled toward him, their height alone enough to strike a pang of fear through his heart. _

_At least they were better than the Chitari. _

_But now both were there, both seeking retribution. They would both make him suffer. _

_Asgard burned, along with everything he loved and cherished. No one would come to his rescue. There was no one that would._

_He was alone, left to suffer and die at his enemy's hands in isolation and depravation, a shadow of what he once was. _

_There was no one to come save him._

* * *

**Oooh, cliffhanger!**

** Haha, Thanks for reading, ya'll! Reviews and constructive criticisms are always appreciated~**


	10. Point Blank

**This chapter's a bit on the short side, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! C:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Underneath the shuttered expression of blankness his eyes were veiled with, Clint felt a pang of guilt and fear rip through his side as the door slammed closed behind him. He trusted his partner to understand, but that didn't mean she would be happy with him. The instant he'd seen the guns, seen the woman, he knew something had gone wrong. His mind moved faster than a freight train as it whirred and processed to figure out just _where_ they had gone wrong.

He stood confidently, though his mind raced for an explanation. Maybe he should've thought this through more carefully. Maybe he should've accounted for the unexpected. Maybe it went wrong because he was _weak_.

The woman strode up to him, interrupting his thought process before it could delve down that depressing path. She smiled sweetly, like a venomous snake poised to strike and he felt his muscles involuntarily tense in preparation for attack, hands tightening around the handle of the gun.

"You have come a long way," She purred, her English near flawless.

"Have I?" He asked, no emotion shining through the question.

"Do not think me an idiot. I know who you are, Hawkeye," She said silkily.

Clint made no move to show his surprise when she recognized him, but arched an eyebrow in faux confusion.

"Hawkeye?" He asked. "I believe you have me mixed up with someone else."

The woman laughed, a mocking sarcastic notion, and sidled closer to him. "Oh, do not play games with me, Hawkeye. SHEILD tried to pull all the footage of you from the broadcasts, but some slipped through the cracks."

Stiffening slightly, Clint quickly hid away any impression that she was right. Obviously, that had been what Jacob had obtained for her, recordings that shouldn't have existed in the first place. His grip on the gun tightened a bit more as she sidled closer. He eyed the others in the room, all seemed prepared for him, each holding a gun close by. He could eliminate plenty before they even realized he was firing, but there was no way he could get rid of them all without getting killed himself.

Besides, he needed to know how this woman knew who he was. Despite the recordings, neither his nor Natasha's names had ever been mentioned and they'd been able to expertly stay under the radar of the media ever since joining the Avengers. So how had this strange woman discovered his name, and more importantly, did she know Natasha's?

His gaze hardened as she purred in his ear again, the hilt of a knife grazing against his arm. "Where is the Widow?"

Well, apparently she _did_ know Natasha's name and seemed more focused on his partner than on him. A protective instinct welled up from the pits of his heart and he glared at the woman before him. This woman was after his partner, after his best friend. He would not give so easily that which was most precious to him. She chuckled, drawing back.

"My apologies, I have yet to introduce myself," she said smoothly with a slight bow. "I am Isabelle Kortkoff, and I have unfinished business with the Widow."

Clint arched an eyebrow, hoping his partner was listening in from the other side of the door. They both knew what the 'unfinished business' meant.

It meant their dripping ledgers were coming back to haunt them.

"What unfinished business?" He inquired, letting his grip on the gun shift tighter.

She sneered, straightening. A burning passion flicked to life in her eyes, a passion fueled by hate and vengeance. Clint had seen that passion enough times to recognize it anywhere and he took note of how she made no notion to veil or hide any of her emotions.

"She killed my sister," Isabelle hissed. "And only now have I been able to find her killer."

The archer tried to swallow the thick lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. That was what was wrong. Haydes had been killed for more reason than his usefulness ending. This woman had wanted to get SHEILD's attention and the drugs she produced as well as the murder were enough for the two most highly skilled agents to be deployed. She knew they were coming, had been counting on it even. What she didn't realize though, was that he wasn't alone.

She believed Natasha wasn't here. She believed his partner was nowhere near. That was a positive in the situation, he supposed, and it was one he intended to keep that way.

The woman edged closer again, the blade in her hand glinting with the bright lights. "Where is she?" She hissed again, a snarl ending her words.

Clint's finger drifted to the trigger, knowing if he didn't deliver the information she sought, the woman would probably try to kill him. 'Try' being the key word.

But for now, he had to play along. The others in the room seemed to sense the imminent confrontation, stilling in their work and reaching for their respective weapons.

"You must not know me well enough," The marksman breathed as she drew even closer. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to drive the dagger through his heart and he wanted nothing more than to do the same, but with an ebony arrow. He chose his next words carefully, hoping that his partner had caught on by now. "Where the Hawk goes, the Widow follows."

There was all of two seconds of silence, before the words seemed to sink in. It was half a second after that did an explosion rock the floor, shoving everyone but the one who had been expecting it to the ground.

Yeah, Natasha had caught on.

* * *

Natasha leaned against the cold metal, trying to press her ear even farther into the door as if it could increase her already remarkable eavesdropping abilities.

"…unfinished business with the Widow."

It was in that moment that she realized what her Hawk had seen that she hadn't. He had seen an underlying animosity within a woman she herself had not even noticed and had had the sense to keep her away.

But now that animosity was turning from her to him and she had to find a way to shift it. She glanced over the quiver he had left with her, eyeing the explosive tipped arrow heads he had packed for the destruction of the drug lab.

She smirked, realizing her partner's foresight and swiveled her head around, searching for an air vent. Spying one underneath the metal staircase, she pulled the cover off and pushed the quiver and bow in before her. Groaning inwardly at the dress she wore, she slid into the vent and replaced the cover just as footsteps cascaded from above.

Pushing herself through the metal tunnel, Natasha went in what she could only guess was the general direction of the drug lab. Thankfully within a few moments, she saw the light of the lab cascade in from a grate ahead. Edging towards it, she heard the faint whispers of words that carried the sound of her partner's voice filter in through the vent cover.

"You must not know me well enough."

The lithe spy snapped the bow open within the generously large vent as she reached the source of the light. The slots in the grate were just big enough to fit an arrow head through. Slipping an explosive tipped arrow from the quiver she nocked it and pulled the string taut.

"Where the Hawk goes, the Widow follows."

Natasha had good aim, arguably better than most, but it was no match for her partner's. However, she hadn't had quite as much practice with a bow as Clint did, and her aim was off by quite a bit.

It was a good thing all she needed to do was figuratively hit the broad side of a barn.

For a few agonizingly long moments, there was silence and her heart dropped as she realized it might not have worked; that she had grabbed the wrong arrow, that her aim was much worse than she had thought, that she had not triggered it correctly.

Those thoughts were shaken away, however, as a large explosion shook the foundation and everyone but Clint was thrown to the ground.

They both took advantage of the sudden confusion and rising dust. Clint jerked the gun up from where he had been holding it, firing three shots as three bodies fell. Natasha kicked the cover off and jumped out, throwing the archer his bow and quiver and whipping out her own gun before anyone could blink.

The next few minutes were the very definition of chaos.

Bullets punctured the air and flew in all directions as arrows ripped across the room and embedded themselves in the hearts of the enemy. Both assassins ended up behind the same metal table, downing their enemies one by one from behind their cover. They worked as a unit, their movements coinciding without a second thought. When they fought together, they fought as one, and when they fought as one, they became the most deadly team the world had never seen.

For they would never be seen. They would remain in the safety of anonymousness, never to be recognized for their heroics or for their deeds. But that was good enough for them, for the simple chance to wipe clean a ledger that was stained so deeply with red. They didn't need recognition. Frankly, they didn't want it. They enjoyed being the unsung heroes; the unnamed and unrecognized. That was how they had always lived before, and that was how they would live now.

They would live as the nameless shadows that protected those that could not protect themselves.

There was a piercing scream of pain as one of the men seemed to have been punctured by a piece of glass and the deadly serum he had been working on seeped into his bloodstream.

Clint noticed the liquid underneath them and immediately pushed himself up off the floor, careful to not touch the fluid. The lithe spy beside him seemed to notice as well, and kept her distance from the wet surface. One could never be too careful when in a lab used to design lethal drugs.

Two arrows. Two Bodies.

As the archer whirled around to fire another arrow into an enemy whose location he'd only identified within a second, a burning pain shot through his arm and he hissed at the stinging ache that settled from the wound. He leaned against the table, glancing at his arm. The jacket was ripped at his upper arm and stained red. He didn't bother looking further. He knew when he'd been shot. It had occurred more often than he'd like.

It was a pain he'd quickly learned to ignore.

Four shots. Two bodies.

A clanging noise echoed form the stairs outside, the chaos having alerted those above. Natasha threw it a worried glance. The last thing they needed was either backup for the enemy or innocents getting in the way. Or worse, hostages.

The archer shared her worry, also hearing the clanging, and kicked a wooden chair towards the pair of doors. It clattered against the steel door, bouncing up and over the knobs, preventing it from being opened. The lithe spy smirked at her comrade's aim, even being able to kick a chair so it locked a door from several yards away.

One shot. One body.

The gunfire began to slow as the men fell, Isabelle yelling at them all as she took cover. They had overturned their own tables, using them as their own cover. Clint chanced a glance from where he crouched, merely to confirm what he had seen before. He smirked when he saw the forgotten tanks of oxygen lying behind them.

He signaled to Natasha, who lowered her gun and nodded. Nocking what was his last explosive arrow, the archer pulled the string taut, imagining where the tanks would be when he would have to whirl out from behind the cover. In one fluid movement, Clint spun out from behind the table, let go of the arrow, and was back behind it before the enemy could blink.

Grabbing his partner, they both ran to the opposite wall, their hands over their heads. A loud explosion rocked the ground, scattering dust and debris all across the room.

One arrow. Five bodies.

Coughing, the two assassins pushed themselves up from where the blast had knocked them down. Glancing around the room, Clint mentally counted the bodies. He hissed under his breath as he stalked around the room, double counting and triple counting.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voice sounding course. Her dress looked tattered and was covered in dirt, her face marred by a cut across her cheek from flying debris.

"Isabelle," The archer muttered, looking up to meet her eyes, an equally deep cut on his forehead from the same reason.

Walking closer, Natasha arched an eyebrow, scanning the room herself. "What about her?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "She's gone," He murmured, the veil in his eyes lifting for a fraction of a second to reveal the concern lying underneath. He frantically overturned rubble, desperately searching for a body that wasn't there. The woman that wanted his partner dead was gone and they didn't know where. His heart skipped a beat as memories flashed to the surface of his mind; memories of being hunted, of the maniacal laughter of a man echoed through his mind. He had already gone through that, he didn't want Natasha to have to as well. Even if she had already endured it, once was one time too many to be the prey of a hunter.

Suddenly the door swung open, the chair that had locked it cracking under the pressure, and they jerked around, instinctively cocking and nocking their respective weapons.

Desmond stood in the doorway, a look of surprise and underlying amusement playing on his features as he held his hands up. Clint visibly relaxed at the sight of his friend, but Natasha remained wary.

"When you said a party," Desmond said, motioning to the rubble, "I did not think this is what you meant."

* * *

**Okay, I'm fairly against using OC's in stories, and the whole revenge trope is kinda overdone, but this is what was planned for this story for a good while, so I'm going with it. I hope you guys like it despite Isabelle. :3**

**Thanks for reading and bearing with my odd updates! As always, reviews and constructive criticisms are appreciated!**


	11. Burden of Fear

**Beep Beep**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Loki gasped in pain, his eyes flying open. He sat up suddenly, frantically looking around to identify where he was, all the while clutching his chest as the memories of his dream resounded through his mind, refusing to fade completely. He was on Stark's couch, in the living room they had been speaking in from before, though the lights had been dimmed and the room was now shrouded in darkness.

Quite suddenly, he recalled what he'd seen before, remembering why he had been unconscious. The Chitari were invading more than his dreams now. They were invading his life, tainting what he saw and heard with their horrible presence. A small bout of panic welled up from the pit of his stomach when the Other's face flashed across the forefront of his mind. He immediately shoved it back to the recesses of his consciousness.

No, he would avoid the thought of the Chitari as long as he could. They already filled his sleep. If he could keep them there for as long as possible, then he would.

The trickster glanced around again, his breathing evening out from the initial panic he'd awoken with. It had grown dark outside, but it was a different dark. It was not the blackness adorned with sparkles of light that was the night sky, but an ebony overcast of dark clouds that rumbled with rolls of thunder. Though the rain had slowed that morning it had now become completely unrelenting, slamming mercilessly against the glass of Stark's windows. The clouds had grown so thick one could not see the sky above that so eagerly wished to show itself; to give cheer to the dreary land shrouded in darkness below.

The dark reminded him of the endless ebony of the void to which he had fallen into. That void reminded him of those he had once called allies, but now called his most hated enemy. The enemy reminded him of his dreams and his dreams reminded him of the fears.

He stopped himself before he went any further, drawing his knees close to his body and wrapping his arms around them. He glanced around again, narrowing his eyes at the form lounged comfortably in the chair beside the couch he currently rested on. It was large and bulky, a mane of blonde hair on its head.

Thor.

Why in the nine realms was that idiotic oaf next to him? Loki stared at him for a moment, a cold shiver ripping across his spine. Thor was waiting for him to wake up, that much he was certain, but why? Why should he worry about his well being? Why would he wait for him to wake up, when there was so much else he could be doing? Why did he _care_?

The last question stumped Loki. He had tried to kill the older Asgardian, though his success only led to his own downfall. He had lied to him, convinced the warrior he had essentially killed his own father. He had tried to destroy that which was most precious to him.

He had done all this, yet the thunderer still chose to love him; to still care. The trickster tried to tell himself he was wrong, tried to persuade himself that Thor hated him, but he could not convince himself of his own lies. He knew Thor loved him, cared for him even, but he didn't understand _why._

Sighing loudly, Loki rubbed his temples. It didn't make any sense. Then again, Thor didn't make any sense either.

"You're awake."

The voice jarred him from his thoughts as he realized he and Thor were not the only ones in the room. He looked up from where he rested, his emerald eyes meeting the billionaire's own brown ones. Tony sat in the same spot as he had when he had first awoken, lounged comfortably in the cushioned seat by the computer.

"Your powers of observation are astounding, Stark," Loki grumbled, his hands still resting on his head.

Tony arched an eyebrow, but made no move to comment on the obvious jibe. Instead, he pushed himself up off the chair he had been resting on. The trickster let his hands fall as the genius walked up to the couch he was on, sitting on the arm he had before.

For a few precious moments it was completely silent, barring the pounding rain outside. Loki eyed the billionaire, scanning for his motives, ripping apart and exposing that which others would think no one would see. His eyes, though they seemed to constantly carry a distinct creativity and curiosity unique only to him, had something different underlying beneath; something akin to his curiosity, but fueled by something more than a desire for knowledge. It was fueled by a protective love, something he'd never before seen in the egotistical billionaire.

He watched as Tony lifted his hand, the rubber ball resting in his palm. He tossed it nonchalantly at the trickster, who caught it deftly in one hand. He ran a finger absent mindedly across the smooth surface. Looking back up at the room's other occupant, he arched an eyebrow.

The genius let a ghost of a smile touch his lips before he spoke. "I want answers, Green Eyes."

"Don't we all?" Loki muttered under his breath, not quite intending the Man of Iron to hear. He cocked his head, letting it rest against the side of the couch. "What answers do you seek?"

"Well," Tony started, "We've already got an idea on what's in your nightmares…"

Loki stiffened, tightening his grip on the ball. His 'outburst' before must've been more outspoken than he'd thought. Though, besides going slightly rigid, he made no other notion the statement had affected him.

"And how would you know this?" He muttered, venom lacing his tone.

Tony shrugged. "Deduction," He said simply, the icy tone not bothering him in the slightest. "But that's not important. What's important is that we know _why _you're so terrified of them. Aren't they your allies?"

"Hardly," The trickster muttered, trying to ward off the memories that continually tried to resurface with each reminder the genius unwittingly brought. He looked back outside, his fingers tracing the edges of the ball distractedly.

The genius blinked, muttering quietly, "Feather Head did mention something about mind control didn't he…"

Loki picked up on the nickname for the Hawk immediately, storing it away in his memory. He was somewhat surprised the Hawk would defend him in spite of everything he had inflicted upon him. After taking over his mind, Chitari or otherwise, forcing him to kill his own, using him to free him from his imprisonment on the Helicarrier, and filling his mind with a single goal honed on death and world conquering, he still spoke the truth in what he saw. He chose to reveal the control that had commanded not only him, but the trickster as well. What was the most surprising was that he _chose_ to do so, instead of holding the silvertongue in spite, though he was sure the Hawk would be more than happy to drive an arrow through his eye socket.

"So, what's got you so scared of them?" Tony asked, once again rousing him from his thoughts.

His grip on the rubber tightened as another rush of memories threatened to overtake his consciousness, their whispers and screeches echoing from the recesses of his mind. He forced it away, focusing instead on that which was real; the question the billionaire had posed.

Should he tell him? Should he reveal the details of the nightmares and memories that haunted him, making sleep all but impossible? The genius had already deduced who it was that invaded his mind, but the he only wished to know why it was that his former allies did as much.

The trickster sighed, running a hand over his eyes. "Why is this so important to you?" He questioned, a half hearted snarl underlying his words.

For a moment a strange thing crossed Stark's eyes. Loki could have sworn it was a combination of hesitation and worry, but worry for what? And why would he need to hesitate to tell him something so simple as his own motivation? Loki's own anxiety spiked through his veins as he realized what that pause in his words meant. It meant there was reason to be worried himself; it meant there was something he was unsure of sharing, though the reason behind it remained unknown to him.

He wondered if he really wanted to know.

Tony remained quiet for a moment, appearing to mull over what to say, when a voice interrupted both their thoughts.

"Because we think the Chitari are trying to come to earth," Pepper said, leaning heavily against the stair's railing and appearing extremely weary.

In that instant, everything in Loki froze. Unbidden, the suppressed memories and nightmares shot to the forefront of his mind like the unrelenting torrent of rain outside. The Chitari's mad cackles and sickening howls ripped through his mind, echoing from its recesses. Their threats returned, louder than anything else.

_There will be no place where we cannot find you. _

The Chitari were coming for him. They were going to make him suffer. They were going to make him pay for failing. They weren't going to stop until the only thing he wished for was death 's sweet embrace in an endless ebony darkness.

They must have noticed the way his breathing quickened, how his eyes widened, shining with horror. He knew he was probably shaking, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything. He had become numb to anything but the promises of torment that resounded throughout his mind.

He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up in confusion at the woman's face. A look of kindness he'd only seen from his mother shined in her eyes along with a bout of sympathy.

"We're here to help, Loki," She whispered. "But we can't do that if we don't know what's wrong."

An overwhelming feeling of acceptance rushed through the trickster. Had it been anyone else, whether it was Thor or the soldier, he would not have listened; not even given them a second thought. However there was something about a woman that seemed to hold an air of truth, a bleeding honesty that desperately wished to be accepted as such. She spoke that which was true, and her eyes that shined with a motherly desire to protect attested to it.

She just wanted to help.

"I…" He began, just as he had on Asgard when he was about to tell Frigga of what troubled him. He half expected to be interrupted just as he had then, but no such thing occurred.

"I failed," He revealed. What felt like a burden of nothing but stones seemed to lift off his shoulders. The memories retreated back to the recesses of his mind. Had he only needed to share his fears to quell them? Eager to see if it pushed them away further, he continued, "He said they would find me if I failed. He said there would be nowhere to hide."

At this point, he'd drawn his knees up to his chest again, and his arms were wrapped tightly against his legs, the rubber ball still gripped in his hands.

"He said I would long for something as sweet as pain," He whispered hoarsely.

Pepper let her hand linger on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. His body trembled as the fears and nightmares he had so carefully guarded for the past six months finally slipped off his silvertongue. It felt good, surprisingly, to share the pain with others; to lift the burden he had carried alone for so long, slowly crushing him day by day.

Tony rubbed his chin thoughtfully, pondering what the trickster had said. Those few sentences had revealed the motivation behind the nightmares and the terror that overtook him every time they struck. It reminded the genius of the nightmares he had endured; of the dreams of drowning, locking up every time he heard Arabic, and the guilt that shrouded his mind every time he saw his own weapons.

Chasing away his own terrors, he focused back on Loki's. That would explain why the Chitari appeared to be attempting to come to earth. Whether they wanted Loki and nothing more had yet to be determined. For all they knew, the Chitari could very much seek retribution upon the Avengers and all of Midgard for their defeat. Last time, it had taken a nuke to end the battle. He wasn't so sure it would be quite that easy should they return.

He coughed, suddenly realizing he and the other Avengers had inadvertently caused the trickster's nightmares. "Yeah, sorry about that whole failure thing. Guess that was kinda my fault, huh?" He muttered lightheartedly, a smile tugging at his lips.

Loki sent him a glare that would have sent lesser men cowering. "Yes, thank you for that, Stark." He sighed, resting his head in his hands with a sigh.

"You are sure they are attempting to return to Midgard?" He asked, raising his eyes to meet Pepper's.

She bit her lip. "Well, we're fairly certain. We could always be wrong though," She added quickly, hoping the sliver of doubt they held would make the trickster feel better.

But it didn't. It did nothing to calm the worry and fear that remained. Though two others now knew, they were still coming for him. They were still going to make him suffer and sharing his nightmares did nothing to change that fact.

A flash of light momentarily lit up the dimmed room, causing the trickster to jump. A few moments later, a long and loud roll of thunder followed. He relaxed as he realized it had only been the raging storm outside.

At the sound of the thunder, however, Thor stirred, groaning as he awoke. Loki stiffened, knowing the older Asgardian would probably hug him without warning when he realized the younger was awake. The warrior blinked wearily, staring blankly at Loki before his mind registered he was awake. When he realized this, though, he was off the chair in a second.

"Brother!"

"Do not call me that," The trickster muttered instinctively.

Thor's arms were around him in a hug before he even knew what was going on. Hissing like a demonic cat, Loki snarled through his teeth. "I can't…breathe…Thor."

Immediately the Asgardian backed away, the trickster gasping at the sudden release of his lungs. He coughed, glaring at Stark's amused grin. Pepper's warm smile wasn't as infuriating, though.

Now that he was no longer sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, Loki leaned into the back of the couch, rubbing his hands with his eyes. He glanced at Thor, noting with ire the idiotic grin on the oaf's face,

"What?" He snarled, his hands dropping from his face.

The warrior's grin only seemed to get bigger. "You are awake, brother!"

"Amazing perceptiveness as always," Loki mumbled.

Not responding to the jibe, either because he didn't catch it or he chose to ignore it, Thor responded, his excited mood tapering, "Are you well, Silvertongue?"

Noting with what he told himself was relief that the warrior had not called him 'brother', the trickster snapped back, "Does it _look_ like I am well?"

Thor winced slightly at the harsh tone. "Aye, you have made your point."

A beat of silence passed, the only sound being the beating rain outside and the occasional, but distant, rolls of thunder. Silence wasn't something at least two of the inhabitants of the room could handle for very long, apparently.

"Why do you two hate each other so much?" Tony interrupted suddenly, his question seemingly coming from nowhere. Pepper knew better than that, though. He'd probably been mulling over it for quite some time. He continued, raising an eyebrow, "Ignoring the fact that Loki kind of blew up half of Manhattan, of course."

"I do not hate my brother!" The older Asgardian shouted hardly before the sentence was out of the genius's mouth.

In slight exasperation, the billionaire quickly replied, "Well, I know _that_! I meant_ him_." He emphasized the last sentence by pointing at the trickster.

Loki huffed and crossed his arms not unlike he had earlier, shifting his gaze back to the torrential rain outside. His instinctive answer was to adamantly insist he did indeed hate the warrior, the one who was most certainly not his brother, but was that so true? The only love he felt for certain was real was his mother's, but since their initial return from Jotunheim even that certainty had begun to waver. Part of him wanted to believe Thor, to know there was someone that loved him, yet the trickster only saw the ever greatening shadow that he had lived in. Now that he thought about it, he realized it was not Thor he hated, but the shadow he unknowingly cast.

He hated that which was decided since their original brotherhood was formed, far before it had been shattered; the superiority that Odin had given the thunderer because of his blood. Yet, because of the trickster's own blood, he had been held afar, known only as a tool to be used when the time came. What he hated was that he was not one of them, and had not been treated as one of them. He had and always would be different, but was that so bad?

Deciding not to reveal his musings and revelations, Loki opened his mouth to adamantly confirm he did indeed hate Thor. He was interrupted however as the elevator beeped obnoxiously. All four flicked their gazes to the doors, but who exited was not who they had been expecting.

In half a second, Stark had straightened from his pathetic posture, Pepper had slid quickly off the back of the couch, and both Thor and Loki stiffened. The trickster swore he heard the genius hiss something to his AI, but he could've imagined it.

In the doorway, stood Nick Fury, looking not at all pleased. When his eyes met the trickster's, he felt a surge of dread suddenly rush through him.

This wasn't going to end well, was it?

* * *

**I love cliffhangers.**

**Sorry these last couple of chapters were shorter. Next one's gonna be longer, promise! :)**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are always appreciated!**


	12. Flatline

**Warning: This chapter ends in a cliffhanger. Please do not throw bricks at me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Clint sighed in relief at the sight of his friend, letting the bow string loosen in his grip. Throwing his partner a quick glance and making a split second decision, the archer ran up to his old acquaintance.

"Des, Stay here. Natalie will explain," Without another word, he bolted out the door and sprinted up the stairs, hoping his partner wouldn't follow. He vaguely heard her call his name, but didn't let that faze him in his chase.

The stairs seemed taller than before, each step taking precious time away from finding Isabelle. With each step the anxiety grew, but no matter how large it got, his fingers never twitched, nor did his body shake. His adrenaline surged through his body. Though over time he had learned to control it, suppressing it when the need arose, he now let it flow freely, making each movement charged with energy.

He slammed through the door at the top of the stairs, arrow nocked and ready to fire. Looking down both sides of the hall, he lowered the weapon slightly to make it easier to run. The marksman sprinted down the right hallway, the sounds and yells from the party Desmond had staged echoing through the halls.

It didn't take long for him to reach the parking lot. He crashed through the doors, an arrow strung and ready to fire. He scanned the lot, nothing immediately appearing out of place. He searched it again and again, but nothing changed.

Growling under his breath, he ran back inside, this time sprinting toward the security feeds. It took him a bit longer to find the room as he had not been there himself yet. However, when he did find it, he shoved the door open and promptly flicked his gaze over to the various screens, ignoring the two bodies on the ground.

The feeds all looked the same; unchanging and unmoving. Nothing in them stirred, no wayward wind or blowing breeze. Nothing.

He hissed quietly, clicking several keys as all the feeds began to rewind. His eyes frantically twitched from screen to screen, madly searching for any movement.

Quite suddenly, he slammed a single key down and every feed stopped abruptly. Though all had paused, he only stared at one, one in the bottom corner of the rows of monitors.

There, on the east side of the building, stood Isabelle Kortkoff, frozen in a mad dash from the community center. Her eyes were wide with terror and abhorrence as she seemed to realize she had miscalculated. She had only expected the Widow. She had not known of the Hawk. But now she knew, where the Hawk goes, the Widow follows.

Clint mentally noted the time on the screen; a minute after the first shot was fired. Apparently she must've given final orders to her cohorts before abandoning them to their fate. She was long gone by now, and there was no use chasing after her into the forest that lay behind the center. They wouldn't find her.

In anger, the archer slammed his hands on the desk, a growl escaping his throat. The woman who wanted Natasha dead was gone, and they had no idea where she had ran off to. Now, one of the worst things a spy could experience was unraveling before his eyes. The hunter was quickly becoming the hunted, and being the hunted was the last thing anybody ever wanted to be.

* * *

Natasha never let her gun drop from its position as it remained aimed at Desmond. She did, however, let it slip slightly as a wild look overtook Clint's eyes and he ran out the door.

"Des, stay here. Natalie will explain." And before she could protest, he was gone.

"Hawk!" She yelled after him, still wary of her partner's friend.

When he didn't answer, she sighed in exasperation. She eyed the man in front of her. Desmond seemed to be a bit tenser now that a gun was aimed at his heart. She took a bit of comfort in being in control of the situation. With the slightest of eye rolls, she carefully lowered the gun, letting it rest at her side.

"He said you would explain…this," He muttered, looking around the room again.

The lithe spy silently pondered over what Clint had meant as a few beats of silence ticked on between them. Had he meant to tell the man the truth, or did he wish her to use her slick words to come up with a fantastic lie? For once, she wasn't quite sure. Had it been anyone else, she would have instantly begun weaving a falsehood, but this man knew Clint before she had ever met him. Did he deserve to know that which was true, to know that the friend that had saved him all those years ago was far from what he once was?

She was saved from having to answer as Clint burst back through the doors, his breathing heavier than before. A darkness she had not seen for many years now lingered at the edges of his eyes. He glanced up at her, his expression solemn.

"Get a cleanup team over here," He muttered, looking back to the carnage the two had havocked as he tossed her a cell phone.

She snatched it out of the air. "Then you can explain to Desmond what happened," She murmured, throwing the man a wary sideways glance. She quietly walked to the other side of the room, leaning against the metal wall.

Desmond looked around in bewilderment, before turning his gaze back to the archer expectantly. Clint ran a hand through his short, unkempt hair in an attempt to dispel the anxiety. He rubbed his eyes, a small groan escaping his lips. His hands finally fell to his sides and he sighed in exasperation.

He looked around at the carnage; several tables lay on their sides, one even bent at a disturbing angle, the oxygen tanks no longer existed- that particular half of the room was charred black- and among all the destruction were fourteen bodies.

There should've been fifteen. Isabelle should've been among them. He reprimanded himself for not noticing she had disappeared. He saw everything, yet he didn't see her. Granted, he was behind a table most of the time, but he should've noticed she had vanished at some point. How had he not seen her?

"Uh…Jordan?" Desmond began, hoping his old friend would provide an explanation. The poor man was practically drowning in confusion among the mess around him.

Clint looked back up at his friend, tearing his eyes from the chaos wrought. His mind whirred as he thought. Fishing through one of his pockets, he pulled out his SHIELD badge, rubbing a thumb over the silvery metal eagle logo. He walked closer, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, the badge at his side.

"That's not my name," He said quietly. Desmond arched an eyebrow in confusion. Could he do this? His name was one thing that many did not know. They only knew him as Hawkeye, the man who never missed; the one they should fear. His name was something more personal, no call sign held as much value as your true name did. He swallowed the lump in his throat, resolving that he could indeed do this. His friend deserved to know the name of the man that had saved him. Clint lifted the badge so Desmond could see it. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped.

"You…you are a government agent?" He whispered in awe. The archer nodded beside him. The man lifted a hand and traced the edges of the eagle. "Agent Clint 'Hawkeye' Barton," He read aloud.

The sniper shoved the badge back in his pocket before his friend could read any further. He met his friend's eyes; blue orbs shining with a newfound curiosity. In a low voice, and hoping his partner would not hear, he said, "Look, Nat isn't going to agree with me on this, but…I've unintentionally made you a target. I was sent here to destroy a drug lab and assassinate a woman named Isabelle Kortkoff. She was in charge of this whole organization," He glanced back at his partner, who appeared to still be otherwise engaged with the agent on the other side of the phone. "What do you do for a living now, Des?" He asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Desmond blinked, he raised his head in thought, "Well, I do odd jobs."

He narrowed his eyes. "Not the kind of odd jobs I had to get you out of, _right_?"

The man stepped back, raising his hands. "No, of course not! I stopped that after you showed up."

Leaning back against the metal wall, Clint nodded. "Well, I think I can get you a more…permanent occupation," He said, carefully emphasizing the last two words. Man, was Fury ever going to be ticked when he found out what he was trying to do.

Perking up beside him, Desmond responded, "You could do that?"

He bit his lip. "I _think _I can…" The archer murmured, barely able to hear. They couldn't very well say no once he was on base now could they? "Yeah, I can."

Natasha snapped the phone closed, from her spot by the wall. She sent a glare toward her partner, clearly indicating she had heard every word. He almost cringed at the intense gaze, but hid it behind a pointedly idiotic grin. The lithe spy threw her hands up in the air in exasperation; her underlying amusement barely showing through her glower.

"They'll be here soon," She said, her expression expertly indifferent. She eyed her partner's old friend warily. The man smiled warmly back at her, a sincere smile that showed his earnestness. He trusted her, so why shouldn't she trust him?

A cold shiver ran up her back, and she instinctively, but discreetly, ran a hand across an old scar. A scar inflicted just under her right shoulder blade; a scar that meant more than just a permanent blemish upon her skin. It stood as a reminder for what happened when one trusted too easily, when those you relied on deceived you. Both she and Clint shared the scar's stings of betrayal. It hurt more than any wound ever would. To see the abhorrence in those you had put your faith in, in those you had trusted, burned to the core of your being and left a smoking wound on the edges of your heart.

Betrayal hurt more than any physical wound ever would. Unfortunately, both assassins could attest to that.

But, she supposed, that is why she could trust Desmond. She could trust him, because Clint trusted him and Clint shared her scars. Though the circumstance with which they were inflicted remained drastically different, the pain was the same, but still bearing those scars, her partner still trusted his old friend.

So it was, the lithe spy made a silent decision to trust the man, though the trust ran no deeper than a superficial flesh wound. With a sincerely warm smile, she relayed her trust to Clint's old contact. Though Desmond didn't seem to catch the inner turmoil she had just gone through to get to that point, he still appeared pleased that the seemingly apathetic friend of his friend responded to him.

Natasha turned back to Clint, suddenly noticing the dark red splotch steadily growing on his arm. She narrowed his eyes at his stubbornness. "You're hurt," She stated.

The archer shrugged, but had to hold back a wince as the movement made the wound twinge with pain.

"I'm fine," He muttered, though even as he said the words his partner had already moved toward him, motioning for him to remove his coat. Clint rolled his eyes, but obeyed, regardless.

The two eased to the ground, Desmond kneeling beside them, as she cleaned the bullet crease. The archer tore off part of his undershirt, handing it to the Widow. She gently wrapped it around his arm, pulling it tight enough and tying it off.

"So…" He began, catching both of the agent's attention as she finished treating the injury. "Are you a government agent too?" He asked, turning his gaze to Natasha.

She blinked. "Yes," She smirked. "I apologize. I have not introduced myself. I am Natasha Romanoff, also known as the Black Widow," She purred in a naturally silky voice.

Desmond nodded. "And are you two…"

"No," Their answer was simultaneous, instinctive. They both knew what he implied. They both knew what he assumed. They were not 'together' as people called it. Being 'together' meant they loved each other. Love was for children. They weren't allowed to love. They cared for each other and held each other in a higher respect than most married couples, but it wasn't love. Love was for children.

The man raised an eyebrow, his expression quite evidently saying what he wouldn't with words. He didn't believe them. Either way, it did not matter. They each held their own opinion and none of them were about to sway in their beliefs on the unique relationship between the two assassins.

They had no time to discuss it either, as a few men with the SHEILD emblem emblazoned on their shirts walked in, each carrying various tools. They looked around at the destruction, the manager of the team sending Clint a glare. The Hawk only grinned back. He noted with wonderful irony that it was the stuck up agent from before and took disturbing delight in the predicament.

Ever since Clint and Natasha had been partnered, it had quickly circulated that their missions could leave quite a mess, what with the archer's love for explosives. It wasn't often they did so, but when they did, they went all out. It had become common knowledge among the cleanup crews that if one ever needed to clean up a Hawk and Widow mess, the one with the most blackmail against him ended up with the job.

Clint glanced around and, deciding the situation was well handled, began to exit. As Natasha sidled next to him, he leaned over and whispered, "We need to find Isabelle."

She nodded, motioning for Desmond to follow them out, but the trio abruptly stopped when a new voice filtered into their silent conversation.

"Fury's calling you both back to New York," The agent from before said with a glare, though he seemed to take satisfaction in ruining their plans with his news.

The archer blinked, narrowing his eyes. "Now?"

"Yes, now. Why else would you presume I inform you two miscreants?" He glanced at Desmond. "Well…three miscreants."

Desmond didn't answer, whether it was because he didn't care or he didn't know what a miscreant could be was unclear. Clint's glare at the agent hardened as he hissed under his breath. "Of all the…fine. C'mon, Nat, Des."

He stalked out the doors and up the stairs; his companion's footsteps following close behind. His heart hammered in his chest as horrible possibilities of what could come flitted through his mind. A warm thrum suddenly replaced the sound of his beating heart. It sung contently, reassuringly, against his chest, calming the anxiety and sending a soothing warmth to the bullet wound on his arm. The archer blinked at the newfound warmth, but made no indication it was there, simply continuing his stalk up the stairs.

"Clint?" Natasha whispered as he pushed aside the door that led to the staircase. He flicked his gaze to her in recognition. She eyed him carefully. "We still need to find Isabelle…"

"I know," He muttered, his eyes darkening. They each stepped off the staircase and began walking down the hallway in silence. The lithe spy continued to watch him closely, her gaze flickering every now and then to the man who lingered slightly behind, content to observe in silence.

He pushed the door to the community center open and walked straight to their car, pulling the back door open and motioning for Desmond to get in. The man obediently followed, fully content with not being involved in the inevitable conversation to follow.

The door clicked back into place as Clint leaned against the car, scanning the forest outside. Natasha watched her partner, his eyes never stopping in their wavering to settle too long on anything. They only concentrated long enough to identify that which was not a threat. When the archer made no move to speak, she too leaned against the car and muttered, "We've got two options."

"I know," Clint murmured back, his eyes still roving over their surroundings.

The spy continued as if he hadn't spoken, "We go back to New York like Fury asked or we defy him and stay here to take care of Isabelle."

The archer straightened. "We're staying here," he said matter-of-factly, moving to the driver's side of the car.

Natasha immediately slid across the hood and pressed herself against the driver's door before the archer had even made it to that side of the car. He sent her a weary glare that quickly died when it met her earnest jade eyes.

"Clint," She started "It isn't that simple."

He stood in front of her, the height difference making him look slightly more intimidating as she leaned against the car door. "It can be."

"Clint…" She warned. "There's more to it than my safety."

The archer bristled when she mentioned the exact thing at the forefront of his mind, but did not speak. He instead opted to lean forward, setting his hand on the door handle.

"There's a reason Fury's calling us back and it has to be important," She stared sincerely into his tired, blue-grey eyes. "We've got Isabelle scared and running like a confused puppy. She's in no state to do much of anything right now. Besides," She smiled, "I don't wanna drag Desmond too far into all this."

He sighed, knowing full well the truth behind her words. His eyes roved again passed her and into the forest beyond. Natasha leaned forward, forcing him to take a step back to keep from losing his balance, and whispered in his ear. "All that…and you need to go home."

There was much more behind those words than a simple suggestion. She worried for his safety just as much as he did hers. She worried about his nightmares, worried about the blackout he'd had, worried it'd happen again and without warning. She wanted him home, where they could fix all this and worry about Isabelle later.

Though she knew ignoring Isabelle could mean disaster, she worried more for her partner's wellbeing than her own right now. The archer would be of no help is he was unconscious and she knew the last thing he wanted to be was useless when she so needed his aid. The best option right now was to retreat and heal their wounds before going to battle once again, against silent enemies and silent pain. Now was not the time to pursue this battle. Now was the time to recuperate and heal before plunging into the fight against evil once again; just as they had so many times before.

Clint nodded, hearing the unspoken meaning behind her words all too well, and eased away from the driver's seat. Natasha pulled the door open and slipped in, her door closing not long after her partner's The archer leaned back and sighed loudly against his seat, his knees propped up against the back of the spy's chair.

"Let's get our gear and go home," he muttered.

Desmond arched an eyebrow form his own seat. "And me?"

The archer smirked as he closed his eyes. "We're gonna get you a job, Des."

The man glanced curiously around as the car started. "Alright," was all he said on the matter. Natasha drove out of the parking lot and began the drive down the back roads of Moscow toward their safe house. Most of it was spent in silence, though a few comments were made from time to time.

It didn't take long to get there, and it took even less time for them to pack up their gear and for Natasha to change into something more comfortable. Granted, it took a bit longer than it should've given how Clint's room was in as much disarray as a hormonal teenager's. Desmond had opted to wait in the car and had even neglected to give the window a second glance in order to keep the safe house location a secret. He hadn't outwardly said as such, but the two assassins had noticed, even if no one else would have. Natasha had caught on to the subtle notion first, further enhancing her trust in the man.

When they had all been resituated back in the car, the lithe spy pulled back out of the driveway and began driving to the further outskirts of the city. As before, they drove in silence, barring a few random comments between Clint and his old friend. A few times, Desmond would point at something they drove past and relay an event that occurred there. It was interesting to them, all the things the man had seen since he had last seen the archer.

Eventually, they pulled up to the base, the car already embedded with a microchip that allowed immediate access. Desmond stared in slack jawed awe at the quinjets and high tech buildings. The three each slipped out, Natasha and Clint each with their duffel bags slung over their shoulders, the Hawk's quiver resting next to it and his bow nestled in his hand.

The two agents walked on either side of Desmond in a subtle notion that conveyed their trust to the other agents. It was a necessary movement because it had become common knowledge that when the Hawk or Widow trusted someone, then that promptly guaranteed their reliability. Granted, after the Chitari incident, most of the agents cast Clint the same wary glance or angered glare they would to a stranger.

In a few minutes, they had reached the debriefing room. After a relieved conversation with a man different than who had been before and the archer quietly murmuring his plans for his friend, the man waved to Desmond. Clint's old friend blinked in surprise as the two agents motioned for him to follow. He smiled back, waved a goodbye, and departed after the man.

It was within an hour that the two partners were back on the quinjet and on their way home. Clint was nestled quite comfortably in the pilot's seat, much to Natasha's chagrin. However, it was quite clear he was not going to move any time soon, so she let the matter be, though she sent him a steaming glare.

The lithe spy curled up in the copilot's seat as the archer began to taxi down the airway. The wheels of the plane lifted off the tarmac and they began to tear through the unbidden night sky. The archer glanced back out the window after a few minutes and watched as the SHIELD base slowly faded from view along with the woman who had become his partner's hunter. At least, he hoped she had faded along with the Russian city. He wanted nothing more than to forget Isabelle, but he knew doing such a thing was naïve and foolish. To try and forget the delicately hanging boulder above your head with the ever fraying thread was less unwise than trying to overlook that which so desperately hunted you.

"Five," Natasha muttered absent mindedly, Clint's gaze twitching over to hers. "I got five."

Remembering their twisted version of a game, the archer thought back to the battle they had just fought. With a smirk, he answered, "Ten."

She sat up suddenly, eyeing him. "Ten? How?"

He allowed a short laugh at her dubious tone. "I blew up five of them."

"That's not fair. They don't count," The lithe spy insisted, though mirth played in her eyes.

"I still win, even if those don't count."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do, I got five and you got five, but I used less ammo. Therefore, I win."

"That's absurd."

"And there was the one guy who accidently injected himself with the serum."

"I still won."

Clint rolled his eyes, though his defiant smirk remained. "What's the standing, anyway?"

"…You're up by three wins," His partner replied after a moment of thought.

He stayed quiet for a second before sighing overdramatically. "I suppose you could have this one."

The lithe spy smirked, leaning contently back into her seat. "Just this once," She murmured.

Smiling back at her, he repeated her words, "Just this once."

Natasha eventually slipped into a quiet slumber an hour into the flight. The night waned on, its ebony expanse dotted with the sparkles and glow of the light. As they cruised over Germany, the moon reached its zenith and its course began to descend.

Clint leaned back, reveling in the silent calm interrupted only by the muted whir of the engines and the wind ripping past them as they shot through the air at incredible velocity, a fact none would ever begin to guess had they not seen the speedometer. Sparse clouds were darkened by the shadowy sky lit only by the stars, providing little to no cover for the covert jet. Though it was built not to be detected, one could still see a plane shooting across the night sky if one looked hard enough. A fact that the archer had not quite considered.

But it was a fact he was going to quickly be all too reminded of.

The spy's eyes snapped open and she whirled alert as an explosion rocked the quinjet. Clint was thrown forward by the impact, his head slamming against the seat when he lashed back. He hissed under his breath, scanning all the screens.

"What happened?" Natasha yelled over the blaring red lights.

"We've been hit," He said darkly, scolding himself for not realizing his previous mistake.

The archer jammed several buttons and switches. He flicked his eyes outside, his mind subconsciously memorizing the layout of everything he saw, including the city that lay a far off. The plane began to tip dangerously forward as the spy grabbed the headphones and pushed them onto her head. Their speed began to increase to a frightening level, the cold forest below coming into few far quicker than they would've liked.

"Mayday!" She yelled with as much calm as she could muster. "Alpha jet seven dash three to SHIELD, come in!"

Only static greeted her desperate cries, her calls for help going unheard.

Another explosion shook the jet, ripping the cord directly out of its socket with the force. The plane began to spiral downward faster than ever. Clint growled again, his heart pumping faster with each foot they dropped. His partner angrily threw the communicator, the sputtering engines afire and billowing smoke pouring out of them.

Time seemed to freeze for the Hawk as his mind assessed the situation. The plane was out of control, hurtling toward the ground. At least one engine was destroyed, the other probably heavily damaged. At any given point one of them could explode. His partner was frantic with an anxiety that had begun to cloud her vision, muddling her decisions. Within only a few seconds, Clint had to make a choice.

Ripping off the belt that held him in place, he braced himself against the chair and wrenched the parachute from behind it. The ground was closer than ever, plunging toward them at a frightening speed. As he strapped on the chute, the archer tore off the spy's belt and her wide, frightened eyes shot toward him. With all the feigned calm he could muster, he stared back with his usual blank expression, though an underlying fear could barely be seen underneath.

He slammed his hand on one button and hugged his partner to his chest. Natasha wrapped her arms tightly around his abdomen, just under his arms. Leaning against the wall to keep his balance so as not to hurtle himself to the ceiling in the spinning tumult, Clint edged to the rear of the plane as the ramp slid downward.

Just as the tip of the plane brushed the edge of an abnormally large tree, he jumped out, Natasha clinging desperately to him. He immediately pulled the string and the shoot opened. However, their momentum carried them head over heels into the forest. Neither saw the two bags among the carnage that hurtled out after them, crashing below. A ways away there was a loud crash as the plane collided with the forest, splintering trees in half and clearing the foliage in its path.

The two assassins crashed into the ground, Clint taking the brunt of the fall as he toppled painfully into the undergrowth. Natasha lost her grip on him at some point in the fall and rolled to a stop several feet away.

For a minute or two, all was quiet, barring the tell tale sound of fire a ways away. Finally, there was a groan of pain as the archer pushed himself shakily off the ground, the parachute hanging uselessly from a tree several paces away and the cords ripped in half from the impact. His eyes immediately scanned the ground for his partner. He felt a flutter of terror course through his body when he did not instantly see her fiery red hair, but the feeling subsided as he pushed himself to a standing position.

There, a few feet away, his partner lay face down. Clint tried to walk toward her, but a sharp pain tore through his ankle and he collapsed. Grunting he dragged himself across the forest floor, pulling himself closer to his partner.

Her fiery hair finally came into view and he pushed away the fern that so obnoxiously hung in his way, He hauled himself closer, so he was next to her.

"Tasha?" He said coarsely, brushing her hair out of her face.

Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be unconscious, though the Hawk's mind did not register that. Instead it filled with an icy fear, a pulling at his own consciousness growing stronger as the terror increased. He pushed himself to his knees, careful to not move his ankle and looked his partner over. So engrossed was he, that the sound of the far away explosion did not faze him.

"Natasha?" He asked again, his voice still hoarse.

An unsettling panic was beginning to settle in the pits of his stomach as his mind relayed her injuries; There was a deep gash across her back probably from the fall, and a large bruise was forming at the corner of her forehead. He was sure there were more wounds within that he couldn't see. Her jade green orbs were still hidden behind the lids of her eyes.

"Natasha!" He said again, more emphatically.

She still did not move and the panic welled up with more force than he'd expected. A sudden fear overtook him and he could feel something harshly tugging at the back of his mind.

He looked up suddenly as the distinct crackle of fire grew ever louder. His eyes widened and horror ripped through his veins. Flames licked hungrily at the forest around them, no doubt a side effect of the crash, and they sped closer with every passing second.

Not pausing to consider his partner's injuries-after all they were both dead if they didn't get out of here-Clint rolled the spy on her back and slipped his hands underneath her. He paused to shove a stick in his mouth, biting into it to try and ward off the flurry of pain as he stood on what he now was sure was a broken ankle.

Cradling Natasha best he could in his injured state, the archer staggered forward, cringing with every step. The crackle of the flames grew ever louder behind him, but he couldn't look back. There were too many precious seconds wasted when one looked back and there was too much at stake to waste time.

There was a loud crack as a tree branch fell under the pressure of the flames in front of them. The fire was now dangerously close to completely encircling the two assassins. Clint narrowed his eyes as smoke began to cloud his vision.

They'd just gone out of the frying pan and, quite literally, into the fire.

* * *

**Fun Fact: In the original script of this story, the plane crash was never supposed to happen. It was added in when I feared I would be unable to achieve 50,000 words with the current plan. Ironically, this is the scene in which I achieved the goal. **

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are appreciated, but bricks thrown at my head are not! xD**


	13. Fault

**Let's just leave Clint and Nat in that fire and go to one week before all that happened, shall we? I did actually try to get their timelines to coincide, but Loki's part just moved way slower for some reason...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Loki and Fury's gaze held for a few agonizingly long moments. The tension in the air was nearly palpable; one could cleanly slice through it with a knife. Refusing to give the director any satisfaction in knowing the fear inside was slowly increasing, the trickster narrowed his eyes and pushed himself off the couch, his eyes never wavering from their gaze.

"I was hoping my intelligence was wrong," The man said darkly, glaring at the trickster.

He bit his lip, knowing how many nasty replies his silvertongue had already conjured. This was not the place for them; not now, not yet. Instead, he kept his gaze, remaining with a feigned air of confidence as he glared back.

Tony edged off the couch with an eye roll, purposefully thudding noisily against the ground. "It usually is," He replied easily, none too happy with the man entering uninvited.

Fury crossed his arms, his glare intensifying and his locked gaze with the trickster never wavering. The silence continued for several seconds, anxiety and apprehension growing in each of them.

"What is _he_ doing here?" The director finally asked, his tone near a growl.

"I asked myself the same thing," The billionaire muttered, though he seemed to go unheard.

Thor responded, ignoring Tony's comment, "I assure you, my friend, that my brother means no harm to you or your planet." Loki bit harder on his tongue to keep himself from countering the warrior's terminology and facts.

"Somehow I don't believe that," Fury said simply, striding forward, the elevator doors sliding shut behind him.

"Why should you?" Loki said, the sound of his voice echoing in his ears. "After all that Thor has done for you, after all he's done to prove himself reliable, would you not trust his word?"

Fury narrowed his good eye. "I trust Thor. It's _you_ I don't trust."

The trickster smirked. "Well, that goes without saying."

Thor elbowed him, quietly, a silent gesture that told him he should stop talking. Loki flared at him and rubbed his side. Though he loved to talk, to let his words slide so easily off his silvertongue, he knew when it was time to still his speech and need no reminder.

"Why are you here?" The director asked.

He didn't respond immediately, because he knew someone else would. What he didn't expect was the answer to not come from Thor's mouth.

"Fixing loose ends in his punishment," Pepper replied, her gaze at the man hardening. Loki was quickly realizing not even those the director considered his allies were very fond of him. He smirked bitterly for a moment. It reminded him of his relationship with Sif; allies that hated each other.

Fury finally shifted his gaze from the trickster's to stare at the group with scrutiny. "If that is all there is, then why is he still here."

"Because it involves Barton," Tony snapped. "But _you_ sent him off on a super secret spy mission, so _technically _this is your fault."

His glare hardening, Fury continued with feigned calm, "I don't want him anywhere near my agents, especially Barton,"

Loki fingered the ball in his hand, tossing it in the air nonchalantly. "Then he'll continue to suffer," he lied smoothly. His magic was almost, if not completely, dormant in the Hawk's mind as far as he was aware, but creating leeway was the best option for him right now.

The man's gaze intensified at his words. "He's not suffering," He responded, though a hint of doubt was underlying his statement.

Throwing the ball a little higher, the trickster arched an eyebrow. "Is he? How can you be so sure?"

He realized silently the veiled confusion in Pepper's eyes as she knew the Hawk was most certainly_ not_ suffering and Thor was as oblivious to the lie as Fury was. Tony, however, quickly picked up on it, quicker than he had first anticipated.

"He's been having dreams," the genius said, perking up. "Nightmares, really."

Bewilderment laced through the man's features as his good eye narrowed farther. Loki knew the man didn't trust him, but also knew he trusted Stark more than the trickster; granted, that increase in trust probably wasn't overly extensive. As the ball fell back into his palm he wondered idly why the billionaire was taking his side. He supposed it was because he secretly cared about the wellbeing of his hawkeyed comrade. That was the most logical conclusion, after all.

He noticed how Pepper's eyes suddenly lit up as something seemed to click in her mind. She piped up, adding her own piece, "He was also knocked unconscious, supposedly because of Loki."

The ball landed in his hand, his grip on it tightening as he furrowed his brow at the newfound information. He knew the Hawk had collapsed, claiming he had seen through his eyes, but he hadn't quite realized they were blaming him for it. Granted, it inadvertently was his fault, as it was his magic that had tethered their minds.

Fury eyed the four carefully, looking quite exasperated. Finally he glowered back into the trickster's eyes that shone faintly with mischief.

"You only fix Barton. That's it," He responded firmly.

Loki smiled wickedly. "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," He replied, the words rolling off his tongue like silk.

They continued their glare match for a few more minutes, the trickster's roguish smile never faltering and the director's indifferent expression never changing. Eventually, Fury muttered something under his breath that only Loki heard, before motioning to Stark.

"I believe your twenty four-hours are up," He stated with feigned seriousness, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Tony's expression turned confused before sudden recognition brought coinciding terror and mischief to his eyes. With a disguised smirk and feigned confidence, the genius followed the director, leading him back into the elevator with a hand on his back.

"Yeah, Nick, you're gonna love this…" His voice died away as the doors slid closed. He glanced back to Pepper for a moment, silently conveying to keep an eye on the trickster.

She nodded in response, flicking her gaze back at Loki to find his mischievous smirk and glare had yet to waver. No one spoke for a minute or two, the silence interrupted only by the incessant rain.

"Well, that went better than I had anticipated," The trickster muttered finally, his gaze remaining affixed on the elevator doors.

Thor moved beside him, walking to the CEO and clapping a hand on her back, nearly sending her to the floor.

"Thank you for defending my brother, Lady Potts. That was very noble of you after all he put you through," He said the last words with a pointed glare at the aforementioned.

The trickster simply beamed up at him with the same unfaltering, roguish smirk, untold mischief dancing in his emerald eyes.

Pepper, however, seemed to have her mind on other things. She frowned thoughtfully, letting her eyes turn back to the elevator.

"Did you hear what he said?" She asked, almost to herself.

The warrior's expression shifted to confusion, but Loki seemed to instantly know to which she was referring. He crossed his arms and snorted.

"Ragnarök," He muttered with an eye roll. "He mentioned something about Ragnar**ö**k."

The CEO arched an eyebrow, adopting the same expression as the older Asgardian next to her as she swiveled her gaze back to the trickster.

"Ragnarök?"She questioned, bewilderment lacing her tone.

Loki waved a hand nonchalantly. "It's nothing. Do not worry about it," He answered, his eyes glinting with the faint hint of annoyance. Annoyance at what she was unsure, but she questioned no more about the strange word.

His brother, however, seemed rather interested and moved to fulfill such curiosity, "How do you know about this 'Ragnarök', brother?"

With an eye roll, Loki responded, "There are these wonderful things called 'books', Thor. You know? Those things you have never touched since we were children?"

Thor wrinkled his nose in contemplation. He knew what books were, Loki had been so enamored with them it was hard not to, but he truly could not remember the last time he had actually opened one and read it. Had it been the last day he had been required to take lessons with the scholars and had moved to full time weapon's training? No, Loki had come to him many times after that with a book in hand and an expression of excitement about some discovery or another he'd found within the pages.

He realized now, that the only time he'd ever truly paid any attention to the tomes was when the younger had so elatedly come to show him what he had learned from the bound paper. And Loki had had no shortage of those discoveries, especially in his youngest years, when he read night and day, often forgetting to come to meals in favor of the pages of his books. It was that separation that had started to make him different, for as the other children eagerly made play with their mock battles, the young trickster had indulged himself with the inscriptions of old, increasing his knowledge at a phenomenal rate compared to most other children.

But that knowledge and learning had come with the price of teasing and mockery. He had been different, different from the start and he had been branded with that difference since. That brand had stayed with him through the years and no one had realized the effect it had had on the young Asgardian.

Choosing to dwell on that matter later, Thor chuckled as he remembered old memories of his younger sibling. "Aye, if I remember correctly, the last time I read a book was when _you_ ran into my chambers in the middle of the night with a tome on potions and so proudly showed me a section on how acids were formed," He regaled with a smirk.

The trickster blinked for a second as he attempted to recall the memory. His lips turned up into another roguish smirk as he remembered to what his brother referred.

"Yes, and if _I_ remember correctly, Sif had a bit of acid related trouble the next day, correct?" He replied with the same mischief as before dancing in his eyes again.

Pepper smiled as Thor's laugh bellowed through the living room, overpowering even the downpour outside. Curiosity danced in her own eyes as she made to inquire further, but was interrupted by the sound of the elevator door sliding open. She narrowed her eyes for a moment at the familiar, but since the Vanko incident, unwelcome, sight of Tony standing next to a beautiful woman. It took her a moment to process that the woman seemed none too interested in her beau, but rather in the blonde Asgardian that stared after her.

The woman's face growing into an enormous grin, she bolted out of the elevator and would've vaulted the couch had Thor not come around to greet her.

"Thor!" She cried eagerly as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

"Lady Jane!" The warrior said with a laugh. "You escaped the tiny, thin box!" He added with a grin. Though he knew his assumption of the box was incorrect, he also knew the same assumption would make his friend laugh, and that mattered more than being correct to him.

And she laughed indeed, a sound rivaled only by the waves of the Asgardian ocean as it brushed against the sands of its beaches. He smiled at the sound. It was a sound he had missed, so long it had been since he had been able to truly laugh. It was a luxury lost to him, fading slowly through time. He wished he could feel its warm embrace more often and silently vowed to find more ways to laugh from then on.

Tony sidled out of the elevator, managing to look dejected and pleased at the same time. He strode over to Pepper, clapping a hand on her shoulder and smirked down at her.

"Apparently they tried to delay the flight because of the storm," He whispered to her, "But she wouldn't have any of it."

"Sounds like someone I know," Pepper muttered with a smirk, elbowing him in the ribs.

Loki shifted awkwardly behind the couch, folding his arms closer to his body and looking like he was about to gag from the sentiment as he had the last time the two had seen each other. He felt the slightest pang of guilt for even having the idea of coming to kill a woman the older Asgardian held so dearly, but quickly brushed it away. Not that he cared for Thor, but more so because the two held something he had never felt. They appeared to share a love he had never known and ripping it from them would make him worse than Odin in his eyes, for Odin now attempted to take everything of which he knew and loved.

Jane parted from Thor, her eyes drifting around the room. When they fell on the trickster their gazes locked, not shifting for several, tense moments. Finally, she slowly slid her hands from Thor's grip and sidled over to the younger Asgardian, their eyes never wavering from each other's stare.

She stopped in front of him, her stature nowhere near the trickster's own, standing in silence.

"You must be Loki," She whispered, her eyes darkening in the slightest.

He nodded, noting how each occupant had shifted to watch the conversation. "I am."

Silence reigned again for a few, precious moments, before Jane's lips turned up again into a smile. With that same smile, she lifted her hand and slapped him across the face.

His head jerked to the side at the force of the impact, his mouth slightly agape at the sudden action. Loki turned his head back to look at her, furrowing his brow and raising a hand to rub the now stinging skin on his face.

Looking rather pleased with herself, Jane replied, "That's for trying to take over the world and for trying to kill Thor." Then, with a less than sure of herself expression, she gently pulled his head down to her level and kissed his cheek. Settling back down on the balls of her feet, she let her hand linger on his shoulder and whispered, "And that's for not succeeding."

"Well, that wasn't exactly my decision," He muttered, mind reeling in an attempt to process what had just happened as he continued to caress his stinging face.

"Was it?" She asked with a smirk, pulling away to move back to Thor.

Her words echoed through his head, resounding against his skull. He watched her quizzically for a moment as the others began to mull about, continuing to give him their wary glances, though they seemed to be filled with less ire than before. Had it been his decision to fail? Had his subconscious not wanted to see the fall of Thor and his newfound friends? He would admit, he had taken some enjoyment in the entire ordeal, especially in finding one who could challenge him in his own element.

But, though not all his intentions had been his own, had he truly wished to see himself fail? Had he wanted to see the Avengers defeat him? He didn't know. Those memories were sharp and clear, but his thoughts were muddled and cloudy, as half of them were not even his own. The Chitari mind control that coursed through his brain had clouded what he saw, heard, and thought. A bloodlust he had known he was always capable of surged forth and overcame his thinking as he decimated populations, ordering the Midgardians to kneel.

Now, that part he had particularly enjoyed; the terrified faces of the mortals as they sunk to their knees in quiet subjugation. He had never been in such a state of power. None had ever knelt to him, despite being the king's son. They had all knelt to Thor, because they all believed Thor was the only one worth bowing to. They did not see the younger prince and ignored how it had been that prince's plans and magic that had saved the warrior and his men from a gruesome fate. They did not care, for they only cared about who they believed had won the battle, casting aside the brilliant strategist that had formulated that which truly brought victory.

He'd slowly become a pariah in his own home, cast aside by his own people; all because he was different, more different than anyone had ever realized. He wondered if it had been his Jotun blood that made him favor the intellectual rather than the brute war the others preferred. No, the Jotuns were just as warmongering as his own people. He had been born different in many ways. He would've been an outcast even if he had grown up on Jotunheim. Anywhere he could have gone he would've grown different than the others and been rejected.

No matter where he went, no matter what he did, he would always be different. So, why fight that which could not change? He'd accepted he was different many years ago after destroying his room in a magical explosion and being grounded. Though Thor had adamantly insisted he had been involved-which he was-he had not been grounded alongside Loki. He had been dumbfounded by the favor his father had showed, and had decided he was somehow different than the one he had called a brother.

Though he was different, an outcast in his own realm, he had continued to learn in that difference, enhancing his abilities, and sharpening his silvertongue. When he could not receive the positive attention he so desperately searched for, he turned to the negative, seeking attention in any way possible. His pranks had definitely gotten him attention, not the attention people normally wanted, but it was attention nonetheless and that was what he had wanted.

His pranks had not all been driven as such. Often, all he wanted was a laugh and a bit of fun. Less often, they were fueled by vengeance. Yet, every prank, trick, and joke left with at least someone smiling. Though, the reason behind the smile was not always amusement, sometimes malevolence, sometimes cruelty.

As he watched Jane embrace Thor again, he wondered how such a petty mortal could spur his mind into such thought. He glanced outside, the pounding rain beginning to subside and the clouds giving way to the orange haze of sunset. Another day was ending. Each day that passed brought him closer to his imminent death on Jotunheim, each passing second closer to his doom.

He turned away from the window, ignoring the thoughts. He could worry about that later. He could dwell on those thoughts tomorrow.

And that tomorrow had to eventually come, didn't it? He could not escape these thoughts, for they were as imminent as his death, as they followed as such. The tomorrow would come, and he would no longer be able to run from his own questions and musings.

The inevitable tomorrow would surely come.

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**I love the word 'pariah.' It's such a fun word. Also, I finally got Jane into the mix. Took me only, what? 9 chapters? **

**Thanks for reading and for all your lovely reviews! They are all very much appreciated~**


	14. Outrunning Death

**Note: Up until this and the next chapter, Loki's and Clint's POV's were off by about a week. Sorry I forgot to mention that. Loki catches up next chapter, I believe. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

The hooves of the horse slammed rhythmically against the crystalline rainbow bridge, the sound barely heard over the raging ocean below. The wave's blue was tainted orange and yellow with the setting sun, yet grew darker the closer the observatory became.

Sif's hair bounced against her back, thrown by the wind in its carefree wisps. She gripped her horse's reigns as she drew nearer to Heimdall. It had been more than a week since Loki's punishment had been issued and only she and the Warriors Three had been entrusted to know of what had transpired behind the closed doors of the court.

The punishment had not gone as planned and the two Sons of Odin were sent to Midgard to fix the problem. But that had been a week ago, and they had yet to return. Even the Allfather seemed struck with a twinge of worry. The warrior maiden felt a twang of suspicion herself at the delay with which the two were held up. The trickster had returned to the realm he had tried to conquer, after all. For all she knew, the people of that realm had killed him and Thor had sought vengeance.

She silently hoped they hadn't, not that she liked the trickster, but, for one, they didn't need Thor on another rampage. For another, if anyone was going to kill Loki it was going to be her. She refused to let anyone else have the pleasure. The little runt had been a purposeful pain in her side since they were children, exploiting her temper for the sake of his own amusement.

Yet, through their childhood, they had still considered each other friends, albeit a strange sort of friend. They had been the type of friend to each other that you wanted to strangle on a daily basis.

Her eyes narrowed at the memories that twisted through her mind, none of which were all too appealing. She pushed them aside as she pulled back on the reigns, the wind that had cascaded through her hair wavering in its speed.

The crystalline bridge lit up with color as she slid off her horse, her boots smacking against the ground. She strode confidently forward to meet the gatekeeper that guarded the Bifrost. Unlike his normal post, he stood closer to the edge of the bridge, as if he stared out and into the void that lay past the cascade of water at the end of their realm.

"Lady Sif," He greeted, without giving her a glance.

"Good Heimdall," She responded, standing beside him on the precarious edge of the Bifrost. They stood in silence for a few moments before she continued, "What delays the sons of Odin?"

"Straight forward as always, my lady," He replied, his tone far from discourteous. "The Midgardian they left in search of is delayed himself and, therefore, unintentionally delays the two princes."

Curiosity slipped through Sif's mind, though she hid it best she could with a tone of nonchalance. "And what delays our Midgardian friend?"

The gatekeeper was silent for a moment, as if he searched the realm for the one she spoke of. After a minute or so, he spoke, "It is unclear to me what delays him, but it appears to be far from good."

Sif arched an eyebrow, though she knew the Asgardian could not see. "Who is he? This Midgardian?"

Heimdall let a small smile slip onto his lips. "He is known as Hawkeye. His eyes are as sharp as the elves and he is just as attached to his weapon as they are. He was turned to Loki's side on the prince's conquest for Midgard."

She bristled at the sound of the trickster's name, but tried not to let it show. Setting her hands behind her back, she rocked back onto the balls of her feet. "So, why does he delay the traitor's punishment then?"

Ignoring the obvious jibe at Loki, Heimdall responded, "I am sure we will both know in due time, Lady Sif."

"Then you do not know?"

He smiled again, but said nothing.

Sif regarded him for a moment longer, before bowing slightly. "Thank you, good Heimdall," She said quietly before turning back to her horse.

"What do you believe he has done?" He asked suddenly, his voice jarring her from her gait.

"I'm sorry?" She asked in confusion.

He lifted his head higher, turning and walking back to his normal position before the observatory. "What do you believe Loki did in the short while he was king?"

The warrior maiden snorted at the thought of the trickster. "He sent the Destroyer to kill me, Thor, and the Warriors Three. He led the Jotun into Odin's chambers and had it not been for Thor they would've slew him. He tried to escape using the Bifrost, but Thor fought him off, the observatory destroyed in the process. He then escaped to the Chitari and tried to conquer Midgard," She took a deep breath, before glaring into the void. "He deserves more than what he is given."

"Your view of what happened is distorted, Lady Sif," Heimdall muttered. Her glare shifted to the gatekeeper as she regarded him carefully. "You see only what you wish to see."

"I know what happened!" She shouted, clenching her fists and temper flaring.

The gatekeeper considered her for a moment. "Do you?"

Sif huffed and turned on her heel, walking deliberately back to her horse. She had received the information she had sought, what reason was there to remain? "Thank you, good Heimdall," She said forcefully.

Swiveling her head back to the golden city, she dug her heels into her horse's side and rode off. The wind once again played with her hair with its lithe, wispy fingers. The sound of the crashing waves was drowned out by the roaring wind that echoed through her ears.

She sighed, letting the wind play as she tore across the bridge, her thoughts overriding her senses. She could never figure out Heimdall. The Asgardian was a strange one and deciphering his words was often difficult. She found herself hoping he had lied, to prove to herself the trickster had fooled them all and had made a grand escape to the wretched Chitari he had allied himself with. Then, she would be allowed to ride into war against him, to be given cause to drive a blade through his heart.

Loki had done them no good. He never had. He never would. She didn't care if her idea of what had happened was distorted. In her eyes, there was no other explanation. She didn't need one.

The trickster deserved more than what he had been given, and she refused to let anything sway her opinion.

* * *

Clint's grip on Natasha tightened as he dragged them across the forest floor. The smoke had grown too dense and too thick for him to continue upright. Though it had shot spikes of agony through his surely broken ankle, the walking had certainly been faster than crawling through the undergrowth. Fire licked tauntingly around them, the spy's body as limp as before. He continued on however, strengthened by the steady heartbeat that thrummed so loudly against his ears.

He tuned out the crackle of the flames, only listening to her heartbeat. He focused on that which was familiar, that which he knew. What he knew was his spider, he knew her better than anything else and she was his constant right now. His bow was somewhere else and he couldn't help but feel his heart wrench to what had been the only constant in his life before the spy had entered his existence.

But that wrench of the heart could be dwelt upon later. Right now, he only focused on escaping the fire that so greedily licked at the forest around them. They had surrounded them before, but a well placed overhang and a fallen tree had ensured escape.

Something new entered his ears, nothing like the crackling fire or the hoarse sound of his throat as it scrambled for fresh air. It was something soft, but loud. It carried a great force in a quiet trickle.

It was water, the sound of a river, a stream, or a creek. It didn't matter, either way.

The archer's hearing focused onto the sound, ignoring any other noise except the two heartbeats that thrummed in his ears and the trickle of water.

A burning sensation ran up his left arm, the one he used to pull them forward. The pain streaked through his arm and he bit his tongue, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth as his teeth bit through the tissue.

He continued moving forward, blinking a seeping trickle of blood from his eye. Memories of things far worse than what he currently went through flitted past his vision.

There was the sharpened edge of a blade resting so delicately against his eye, taunting him with its red stained steel and promises of blindness. There was the feeling of water dripping from his head, the liquid trying so desperately to escape his lungs. There was the electric current that so mercilessly ripped through his veins, only stopping when his body finally gave into the convulsions. There were the hallucinations of past scars as his body burned and froze at the same time, head pounding with the drug that coursed through his blood.

He'd been through so much worse. This would be no different. He would escape. He always had, despite the trouble magnet he had become over the years.

The sound grew louder, the trickle becoming a flood as the air cooled in the slightest. The two barely remained ahead of the fire and now it seemed determined to engulf them before they could reach the river.

A ledge sloped downward to the sandy banks of the river, foliage coating its side. Clint grunted as he edged onto his back, pulling Natasha into his arms. He pushed his good leg forward and slid down the edge, using his elbows to slow their momentum enough to keep them from being thrown into the river.

The archer hid back a wince as his bad ankle collided with the ground and the both of them tumbled onto the bank. The flames licked hungrily above at the foliage, cascading downward in a twisted game of cat and mouse.

Sucking clear air into his lungs, Clint lurched forward and latched his right arm around Natasha's limp waist. His keen eyes scanned everything around him. In a matter of seconds he had taken in every detail of his surroundings: the moss covered rocks that protruded from the river, the panicked herd of deer that crossed it a ways down, and the rocky divot in the slope that was clear of foliage.

Knowing running from the fire had no longer become a survivable option, the archer pulled them both toward the alcove. Pain streaked from the burn on his arm, but he ignored it. He'd learned how to ignore pain, sometimes to a level that should not be possible for humans. But that ignorance often led to more pain, or a worsening pain.

He could feel the heat intensify the closer he got to the alcove as the flames threatened to cascade over the opening from above. There was a loud crack from over the ledge as a tree branch gave way to the fire.

Clint ground his teeth together and lurched forward like an arrow from its string. The two rolled into the alcove as the branch crashed over the opening, the smoke billowing out and away from the alcove. The archer sat on his stomach for a few minutes-hours, maybe-, breathing into the sandy dirt floor of the slope's divot. His arm remained around Natasha's waist, though it now hung limp. It was only then did he hear his breathing over the crackle of the fire a yard or so away. It came in rasps, his lungs scrambling for something other than smoke.

Eventually, he tried to roll onto his back, but stopped halfway through as pain rippled across his skin. His ignorance to his pain meant he had endured more than he realized. That, and the adrenaline pumping through his veins had tunneled his vision, focusing on the single goal of escape.

The archer pulled Natasha closer, this time, much more wary and careful around her own wounds. He growled at himself at the new and reopened ones that had surely been made on their trek to the river. He ran a gentle, uninjured, hand through her fiery red hair, carefully combing out the unwanted sticks and leaves that had lodged themselves there.

He gazed at her face, marred by blood and grime. She still looked as beautiful as ever in his eyes. His heart ached within him, reaching toward her like it wanted to be with her. He bit his lip, forcing the feeling down; the feeling that felt like love. He wasn't allowed to love; their line of work didn't allow it. Besides, love was for children.

Wasn't it?

There was more reason behind dragging her limp body a good ways across the forest floor to escape a fire. It would've been so much easier to leave her. His own self preservation had indeed been screaming at him to leave her. But there had been something stronger at play, something stronger than self preservation.

But what had it been? And was it still there? A pang of…something rang through his heart and his mind like a song that wished to be sung, but had been suppressed by fear. Was it love that had driven him so far? So far as to risk his own wellbeing to save one who could not save herself?

Surely not. He had done similar actions before.

Those before had felt different, though. They had been fueled by a protective instinct, a loyal heart, and a fear of loss. This time it was different. This had been fueled by all three and more.

But was the last part of the mix love? He had seen love's effects. It was stronger than nearly any bond, rarely ever broken or torn. It drove people to do things they never thought themselves capable of. Love was strong, but was love only for children?

An icy tug at his mind snapped him away from his thoughts. He blinked at what had become a familiar pulling. It felt…different somehow. Something in his heart thrummed to life, beating excitedly against his chest. He pushed himself up a bit, allowing himself to cringe at the pain that shot through his body. The edges of his vision grew cloudy and he could barely hear words flitting through his conscious.

_"Where are you, Hawk?"_

Clint's eyes narrowed at the echoing voice, a voice he wished he didn't recognize. Loki's voice. The absolute last thing he wanted to hear. It whispered with a tone of franticness, its edges laced with exhaustion and seemed not directly aimed at him.

"Loki," He muttered, his voice cold, "Get out of my head."

Silence greeted him, albeit the raging fire outside. He wondered if the trickster had heard him, before there was an answer.

_"I cannot…your voice," _Loki said, his voice fading in and out and ranging in volume. _"I only see…you see."_

The archer immediately closed his eyes shut, rubbing them with his good hand, now covered with grime.

_"Where are you?"_ He asked again, this time more force in his question. Though, this time seemed to carry even more exhaustion, and even more anxiety than before.

He didn't move and kept his eyes closed. The tugging pulled harder, the force sending minute tendrils of pain down his spine.

_"They can't…if they don't…where you are," _Loki said, cautiously and carefully. _"You know you will both perish… not come."_

Each word pulled on his consciousness and the haze around his vision was continuing to grow. Clint bit his lip and stared down at the sandy dirt he sat on. Was Loki…offering to help? Surely not, surely he had heard wrong. He was just going insane. He was hearing things. The intensity of the situation was making him hear things.

But he knew that wasn't true. The tugging, the voice, and the plea felt too real, too oddly familiar. He sucked on a breath and focused back on what his mind had imprinted into his head before they had crashed.

The GPS on the plane filled his mind and he focused on what it read. They were above Germany, northern Germany. There was a city, or a town, not far off. He'd seen it from the window. What had it been called? Brownwig? No, it had an 's' in it…

He eased his eyes open, the haze nearly coating his vision and black dots dancing in his sight. He remembered. The city that had been pointed out to them. The city that Isabelle had friends in. He reprimanded himself for not remembering sooner and taking a different route, but that was the past and this was now. He had to focus on what he needed to do.

Leaning forward, he ran his finger through the sand, tracing the letters of the city. First a 'B', then an 'r'. With each letter the spots grew more abundant, tauntingly dancing in his eyesight. He finally ended with a 'g' and drew his hand away from the word. He pointedly stared at it, glancing up a few times at the fire outside and looking purposefully at the river that swished past the fiery branch. If what Loki said was true, then they needed all the indications of his location he could provide.

Before his mind could delve into why Loki should not be trusted, why he surely was lying, the black spots won out, completely clouding his vision. Clint wrapped his good arm back around Natasha, staring once again at her marred face. He leaned back against the sand and closed his eyes, letting the welcome unconsciousness overtake him.

_"Forgive me, Hawk."_

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***dramatic music* Fire's too fast to run from with a broken ankle apparently. :P**

**Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms, as always, are appreciated! **


	15. Deeds Long Done

**Sorry 'bout the delay, there. Didn't mean for that to happen, this week's jus' been pretty hectic for me. Too much stuff all happening at the same time. Ugh... Anyway...hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

_The burning poison snaked its way through his veins, leaving a torrent of agony in its wake and tendrils of sickly grey against his skin. Blood oozed out of the gaping wound just below his ribs, an ebony liquid intermixing with the red. He gasped in pain, his hands marred with blood and grime as they clenched against the craggy rock below. _

_They stood around him, mocking him in his pain, laughing at his suffering. They screeched in guttural cries of insults as they watched him desperately try to prevent from writhing in his agony. _

_It was like any other dream: filled with pain, past threats, and desolate isolation._

_But today, today the dream would be different. _

_As he succumbed to the pain, falling to his side and screaming in silence with a voice that was no more, a bright light streaked past. Thunder rumbled across the ebony void and the rasping shrieks stilled. He clenched his eyes shut as another wave of pain he could not feel rushed through him. He listened intently, distinct sounds unique to their owners filling his ears:_

_The sound of energy pulses emitted from a metal clad hand, the sound of metal spinning through the air and colliding with its targets, the crashing sound of thunder, the pounding and roaring of a raging monster. These were the most prominent, the loudest noises in his ears. But there was more, though less distinct and farther away: the twang of an arrow and the shot of a gun. _

_He knew each sound well. He knew each of its owners. But how had they found their way into his dream? How had they found the Chitari? _

_Slowly, the pain eased and the smoldering torrent that was the poison leaked its way out of the wound. The noises ceased, filling the air with silence. Nothing moved, and all was dark behind his eyelids. _

_The stairs creaked. _

Loki's eyes flicked open, staring into the fabric of the couch he had been sleeping on, but made no other movement to show he was awake. His breathing remained steady and calm despite the dream that had previously filled his mind. It had been a week since Jane had come from New Mexico and only a little longer since the Hawk and Widow had flown off to lands unknown to them. Since his talk with Pepper and the sharing of his woes, the nightmares hadn't seemed quite as bad and even seemed to be lessening in their ferocity. However, with every passing day, his anxiety festered as he waited for the Hawk to return. He knew if the Hawk never returned then his judgment would still be passed, and he would still have the comfort of his magic in his death.

What intrigued him was what would happen to the Hawk when he died at the hands of the Frost Giants. He knew it was a rather morbid curiosity for him to consider, but it interested him all the same. With the source of the power gone, likely scattered throughout all the nine realms, what would become of the mind of the one who had the magic currently embedded within his being? The trickster was sure his magic had grown accustomed to the new host and had likely started to automatically heal wounds. He wondered if the Hawk could feel that same warm thrum against his chest that he himself did and he wondered that if that feeling were to be taken away, if the Hawk would feel as empty as he did when he realized the warmth would be gone.

The stairs creaked again, closer this time, the quiet sound enough to shake the trickster from his musings. His steady breathing remained and his body did not move. Most would fall for his feigned sleep, a trick he had used often to gather wanted information as a child. It had outgrown its use over the years, though, for various reasons.

Footsteps padded softly against the carpeted floor, too softly to belong to a man. That only left the two options of Pepper or Jane. He shifted, rolling onto his other side and looked out the window, squinting at the daylight. The sun was halfway to the zenith of its daily arc through the sky, its bright yellow having long ago chased away the tendrils of ebony that was night.

He pushed himself up, forgoing the feigned slumber, and glanced around at the quiet room he had slept in. Though midday approached, the tower seemed oddly quiet with barely a sound made. Loki glanced around, his emerald eyes catching the brown ones across the room.

"Mornin'," Jane said sleepily as she raised a cup of coffee to her lips.

The trickster regarded her for a moment before responding. "Good morning, Lady Jane," He muttered, sitting up straighter on the couch.

The astrophysicist raised an eyebrow at the term, but said nothing. He supposed the endearment was not a common practice on Midgard as he had not heard anyone besides him and Thor use the term.

They watched each other curiously for a few minutes, the silence nearly deafening. It was pierced by the sound of the cup as it was set so gently on the countertop, its bearer's eyes never roving from the figure before her.

"He talks about you a lot," She muttered, her gaze finally shifting outside. "Thor, I mean."

Loki snorted, interlacing his fingers together. "I really wish he would not…," He said quietly.

Jane smiled, leaning against the counter and taking another sip of her coffee. The trickster continued to unwind and wind his fingers together as he watched the slowly rising sun. He wasn't nervous, nor was he currently afraid of anything. What spurred the uneasy action was the change in the hum of his magic against its chest. It felt different, a slight more panicked or anxious. Something felt wrong, but he was unsure of what.

The woman watched what she assumed were nerves playing with the trickster's mind, musing over the things her beau had told her. Things that ranged from the pranks his brother had roped him into to the wild escapes the trickster had conjured in the heat of battle. She wondered what poison had been let to fester in their brotherhood, growing to a point where it could no longer be contained and ravaged the delicate strings that remained. It had grown too strong for too long and been left to destroy what was left. What she could not understand was what that poison had been; what had spurred the destruction.

She pondered over whether or not to inquire, but held her tongue. Jane knew the younger Asgardian would ne none too willing to reveal the provocation of the festering poison, nor was she sure if he himself was even sure what it was. So, she did not speak and the room fell again into silence.

Loki felt a fleeting twang of burning slip past his upper arm, before it disappeared entirely. He shifted at the pain, but its short span did not allow a reaction past that. His magic pulsed louder, warmer, and faster against his chest. He narrowed his eyes out the window. The only times it did that was in the heat of battle. The increase in its speed and heat a reaction to adrenaline, but there was no adrenaline in his veins now. There was no need for it. So why did his body feel the need to react to something that was not there?

This continued for several minutes as Loki realized his heart had picked up speed with his thrumming magic. He sighed wearily, slouching in on himself and noting how Jane had moved out closer to the window, one eye trained curiously on his form. The trickster closed his eyes for a moment letting the excited magic surge toward its fuel.

He didn't let it get far. He soon realized where it had turned and stopped it before it could spur him into unconsciousness with the unintended strain on his mind. He pulled it back, its eager thrum beating warmly in his chest again. The minutes dragged on and Loki could feel his fingers begin to spasm with the excitement that was quickly infecting more than just his magic.

"What're you twitching about?" Jane's soft voice lifted from the other side of the room, shattering the silence despite its volume.

Loki glanced in her direction. "It is nothing," He muttered. "Where are the others?" He asked quickly, half to fulfill curiosity, half to change the subject.

Jane arched an eyebrow at the sudden subject change, but didn't question further, choosing instead to answer the trickster's question. She set her cup down and began counting with her fingers as she spoke. "Bruce and Steve are both out on patrol, Pepper's at a meeting and'll be back soon, I'm pretty sure Tony went with her, Thor's in his room, and we don't know where Clint and Natasha are."

He nodded his head, watching his fingers begin to lessen their shaking as his magic also seemed to slowly calm down. He wasn't really listening to her; he had mostly just wanted to alter the conversation's course. "When do you presume they will return?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Probably within an hour or so."

Loki hummed thoughtfully, nodding again. Though his magic had calmed, the rest of him still seemed filled with suppressed adrenaline. He needed a way to let it out, somehow.

Twisting his finger around, the thrum stretched from his chest to the appendage's tips. He flicked his hand, watching as faint green flames sprouted from his fingertips and began to dance around his fingers.

It had no warmth, and its light was barely above a glow. Though he called it fire it was hardly as such. Despite this, it still felt ironic he was able to summon a flame when he was truly a Frost Giant. Maybe that's why he had always been enamored with the fire; his subconscious wanted to stray as far away as possible from what he truly was. Normally, he could set both his hands aflame with a much brighter ferocity, scaring the living daylights out of those who did not know him well enough to know his magical prowess. It was rather amusing to watch.

He smiled at the memory, not noticing the woman that watched the dancing emerald flames with a captivated gaze.

"Wow," Her whisper was quiet, almost as if she hadn't meant to say it aloud, but it was heard all the same.

The flames flicked away and Loki dropped his hand as he lifted his head in a glance to the woman. She arched an eyebrow in curiosity at the abrupt end to the display. "I didn't know you could do that…" She murmured thoughtfully.

The trickster grunted and dropped his gaze back out the window. "Not many do…"

Silence reigned once again as Loki stared contently out the window, eyes not seeing, but mind whirring. Jane stood awkwardly by the counter. The quiet dragged on for a few more minutes before Jane quietly padded away and up the stairs, the trickster never giving her a second glance.

When her footsteps faded, Loki flicked his hand again, his fingers bursting again into the glowing flame that danced and twisted in intricate patterns. He allowed himself to smirk as he watched the transparent flame coil around his fingers. He liked playing with fire, whether it was real or figurative didn't matter. He enjoyed toying with both. Though, one could only play with the flames for so long before he got burned, just as one who danced on the edge of a sword could only do so for so long before getting cut.

And the trickster had been burned, and cut, many times before. Too often in his youth had he played too long with the fire, danced too close to the blade's edge. As he grew, he quickly learned how to keep from getting cut, to keep from getting burned. His tricks became more meticulous and less childish, hitting harder, faster, more accurate, and with far less suspicion than should be possible for someone who was famous for his antics.

Through the years, he'd gotten better at what he did, but no one seemed to notice, or even care about the unnaturally swift progress the little trickster made. He'd practiced in unnoticed silence and improved with unseen intensity. Nobody cared how powerful he'd become as a pariah among his own people. That is, until that pariah proved too much of a problem to ignore.

Only then had they cared. And they hadn't cared about how strong he'd become, they only saw a nuisance to the throne of Asgard. They all knew who would take the throne; they only feared what the trickster would do to keep that from happening.

In all truth, Loki didn't want the throne, not for himself at least, nor did he want Thor to have the throne. What he wanted was for them to remain as the equals they had been in their youth; as the equals they had been before Thor's shadow grew too large, and his might too overbearing for the trickster to match. In that time, Loki had drifted, lost in the dark shadows the warrior cast. All he had wanted was to rule by Thor's side, but now, past circumstances and lineages had rendered that all but impossible.

Loki scowled, flicking the flames away from his fingers and letting his hand drop. It was no use musing over that which could not change. When this was all over, he would return to Asgard only to be sent back to Jotunheim, where he would perish in the ice he was originally abandoned in.

Through his musings, he did not notice the shadow that lingered at the top of the staircase. The woman that stared after, curiously watching him as he played with the flickering green flames. She continued to watch his unmoving form that stared so intensely out the tall glass windows and to the skyline. Jane wondered quietly what the trickster's mind had been preoccupied with. As he scowled and let the flames disappear, she narrowed her eyes in scrutiny at his frame. What troubled him so? What made him so anxious?

She slipped off the staircase and began the trek to Thor's room, opting to climb up the winding stairs that appeared to be added in as an afterthought as opposed to the elevator. She passed multiple windows on her way, the midday sun a contrast to her tired mood. She still felt as though she had just woken up, hence the coffee she had searched for in an attempt to ward off the weariness.

It was only a matter of minutes before she reached the floor on which her friend's room was situated. She eased the door open, curious at the silence that had overtaken the area. Jane blinked in bewilderment for a moment, before her expression softened and she set a hand over her mouth to cover her smile.

For on the bed, Thor sat contently with his back against the headboard with a green and gold book opened in his lap.

Loki jerked, his hand flying immediately to his head as a flutter of pain whisked through his body before vanishing completely. He blinked in confusion at the sudden pain's disappearance. It was unlike a normal pain, it radiated deeper, from something unlike his nerves. It pulsed swiftly against his chest before shattering into nothing. He could feel his magic swirling anxiously within him as its 'brethren' was stretched and antagonized somewhere beyond.

The trickster narrowed his eyes, not letting his magic flutter off to where he knew it wished to be. Something felt wrong. Something felt very, very wrong. What exactly was wrong he could not figure out, but whatever it was, it had something to do with the Hawk, of that much he was sure.

Another flurry of pain surged through him, worst in his ankle, before fading abruptly. He clenched his eyes closed for a moment and hissed. He wanted that residual magic back where it belonged; inside of _him_ and not inside its new host. He was beginning to feel a bit more possessive of his magic. He could feel the way it grew more accustomed to its new home, rather than wishing to return to where it belonged. He wanted it back.

He winced again at the fleeting pain that returned to his ankle, silently glaring out the window.

"Why do you keep doing that?" A voice asked curiously from where it was situated on top of the counter.

Loki glanced at Tony, his hair unkempt and disheveled from where he sat on the counter. The billionaire arched an eyebrow at him, obviously awaiting an answer.

"Barton," was all that the trickster offered in response.

Tony nodded as if that explained everything and didn't inquire further. He continued to watch the mischief maker with veiled curiosity, cringing slightly every time he saw the trickster's body tense and his gaze lock onto something in the distance.

It wasn't just Loki that knew something was wrong.

He could feel it. It was just a gut feeling, the gnawing voice in the back of his mind. There was something wrong, but he couldn't quite place it. The feeling had arisen when he and Pepper had returned from her meeting and they had found the trickster staring blankly out the window. They had learned from Jane that he'd done as such for a few hours now.

That was when it had started. That was when the feeling had begun to gnaw at his mind. Something didn't feel right. Something was wrong; very, very wrong.

And he hadn't the slightest idea of what it could possibly be.

Loki twitched rather violently to the side and he hissed again.

"Okay, stop that. It's getting annoying," Tony blurted before realizing he was even speaking.

The trickster glanced at him, his expression hard, but said nothing. The genius' mouth twitched in vague irritation at the abrupt dismissal. Silence filled the room again for a few minutes, filled only by Loki's occasional twitching.

The silence was ripped suddenly in half by a bellowing laugh from the top of the staircase, accompanied by a smoother and gentler laugh like ripples in the sea. Both Loki's and Tony's gazes flicked up to the stairs, though Tony's lingered longer than the trickster's.

Thor walked down the stairs with the same green and gold book in his hands as Jane skipped down the carpeted steps beside him. Laughter danced in both their eyes; a pure mirth born from the words on a page.

"Brother!" Thor called. Tony swore he could hear the younger Asgardian groan as he lifted a hand on his head.

"What could you possibly want, now?" He snapped, glaring at the thunderer.

The warrior was suddenly next to the younger before the trickster quite realized. He twitched back and shifted away from him automatically. Thor held the book open, a large grin on his face, and gestured to the page the book currently laid open to as he spoke.

"The Midgardians are hardly apt at recording our endeavors correctly," He laughed again. "Look!"

Loki glared at him pointedly for intruding into his personal space before resigning and leaning over to glance at the pages. His eyes scanned the page, rhythmically following the text. He arched an eyebrow as he read before looking back in disgust.

"What in Asgard…?"

Thor laughed again as the trickster continued reading. A horrified and appalled expression crossed his face before he looked up at Jane and Tony; the former with an amused hand over her mouth.

"You Midgardians have the most twisted minds," He announced, flipping the page, his twitching seemingly forgotten.

Tony pushed himself off from where he had been leaning against the counter. "Wait, I wanna see this."

He situated himself between the two Asgardians and read over their shoulders, Jane cantering after him. His eyes went back and forth steadily as they traced the text. An amused smile slipped through and he laughed, clapping Loki on the shoulder.

"An eating contest? Really?"

"That never happened!" The trickster shouted indignantly, sounding much like a defensive child.

Jane leaned over the couch, her eyes twinkling with unheard laughter. "A race against the flames herself…"

"That never happened!" Loki repeated, narrowing his eyes at the book. "Where did you find this?"

Thor turned the page again. "Remember just a week ago when you asked me when the last time I had read a book was?" The trickster nodded and he continued at the affirmation. "Well, I found some books in my quarters and decided to remedy that particular problem."

Loki nodded again absent mindedly as he read before Thor's words seemed to click inside his head. "Wait, you were actually listening to what I said?"

The older Asgardian looked offended. "Of course!"

The trickster scoffed, rolling his eyes sarcastically. He turned his attention back to the page as Tony reached past him and turned it, a smirk playing at his lips. Ass Loki read the title of the next page his blood ran cold; everything in him seeming to freeze.

He abruptly slapped the book closed, earning a shout of protest from the billionaire behind him.

"What was that?" Tony asked, eyeing him carefully.

His heart hammered madly in his chest as memories resurfaced, memories he wished he could get rid of. He sucked in a sharp breath. His countenance darkened. "Something you Midgardians should not have ever heard of or even recorded."

"Aaand, now I'm curious," the genius muttered, reaching toward the book.

Pushing it away from Tony's reach, Loki hissed at him. Why did the Midgardians have to meddle in everything? He was sure the account was completely inaccurate, just as all the others were. It had to be. How did the Midgardians even find out about this? How had they discovered this? Someone must've come to Midgard after it happened. He made a mental note to inquire Heimdall before he was banished to Jotunheim.

Thor pulled the book out of his brother's grasp, a shout of protest following. "What is so wrong, brother?" He asked playfully, flipping through the pages again.

Loki tried to grab the book out of Thor's hands, but it was lifted out of his reach. He scowled at the ignorant smirk shout back at him. Tony moved to where he could see the pages, waiting for the thunderer to find where they had previously been.

Realization seemed to dawn upon Thor's face as he reached the page as his smirk faded and he stared at the paper. "Oh…" He muttered, realizing why Loki had so adamantly tried to pry the book from his hands.

"The death of Baldr?" Tony read aloud, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Mimicking Loki's movements from before, Thor slapped the book closed and threw it casually on the coffee table. "Aye, Midgard should never have heard of such an event…"

Quiet soon penetrated the room, the playful laughing from before now forgotten. It lingered on, before a voice tore through it, "Now, I'm really curious."

"Of course you are," Loki muttered darkly, glaring at the book.

Jane, who had remained silent during the exchange, glanced at each of them. She watched as none of them moved, neither Asgardian appearing as if apt to fulfill Tony's curiosity. She exhaled deeply, three sets of eyes flicking to her, lingering at different lengths.

"Baldr," She murmured. "Youngest son of Odin and allegedly killed by the blind Asgardian Hoor."

Thor arched a quizzical eyebrow at her. "How do you…?"

The woman looked down and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, smiling. "I…did some reading after you left…"

"I've never heard of Hoor," Loki muttered harshly, his eyes hardening. "If he even existed, he had absolutely nothing to do with Baldr's death."

Tony straightened from behind the couch. "Wait, you said he's a son of Odin?"

The warrior nodded beside him, affirming the billionaire's suspicions. "Aye, Baldr was our youngest brother."

"_Your_ youngest brother," Loki corrected, glowering at him.

Suddenly, Thor was on his feet, looking down at the trickster. Loki looked up at him, arching an eyebrow inquisitively as if he hadn't the slightest idea as to what had caused the reaction. He did, though; knew exactly that it annoyed the thunderer to no end when he denied him his kinship.

"What is wrong with you?" Thor asked loudly, raising his arms in frustration. "What has possessed you to think you are not my brother?!"

Narrowing his eyes, Loki watched him closely as he quickly realized something; a piece of an intricate puzzle slipping into the place where it belonged, clicking soundly within his mind.

"He didn't tell you," he murmured.

Tony and Jane both stood to the side, watching and listening as the two Asgardians speak. Neither dared to move, both afraid to tear the thick tension that was quickly building in the room.

"Who? Tell me what?"

Loki met his deep blue eyes again, agitation twitching in his fingers. "He didn't tell you, did he?" He muttered again.

Throwing his hands up in irritation, Thor answered, "Tell me _what_?"

The trickster seemed to stare, unseeing, up at the older Asgardian. He leaned back, looking up at the thunderer. His brow creased as he bit his tongue, mulling over his words before speaking.

"Laufeyson," He said plainly.

Thor blinked, once, twice, and again. His brain whirred, scrambling desperately to find the meaning behind the single word.

"Son of Laufey?" He whispered, unsure of himself.

The trickster sucked in a breath, twitching in a fleeting spasm of pain. "I'm not the son of Odin," Loki murmured, pushing off the couch to stand in front of the thunderer. "I'm Loki Laufeyson, the blood prince of Jotunheim."

His breath caught in his throat as the words spilled from his tongue. No one dared speak. His countenance had grown darker, more dangerous and threatening with each word. Thor stared, his expression remaining confused and bewildered, refusing to recognize or acknowledge the information just presented to him.

"W-what?" The older Asgardian stammered.

Loki narrowed his eyes, sighing quietly. Apparently it was story time…

"Remember when Fa-Odin told us the story of the war with Jotunheim, back when he first showed us the casket?" At Thor's confirming nod, he continued, aware of the two quietly listening beside them, "He left out the last part. How he found an infant in the snow, abandoned. He took the infant back to Asgard and named him Loki, raising him as his own." His words were clear, piercing, rolling off his silvertongue like black silk as they cut through the tense silence as a knife through warm butter. He could feel his eyes burning, but refused to let anything fall.

Thor stared back at him, mouth agape in shock at the discovery. He made to speak, but Loki was not done, he had more to say.

"I was abandoned by the _Frost Giants_," He hissed. "Because I was a _runt_. Because I was _different._ And what was I on Asgard?" He did not wait for an answer before continuing, "I was a pariah among my own people. It would have been no different in Jotunheim had I managed to live that long. Odin may have saved my life that day, but for what?" He was closer now, snarling in Thor's face and eyes burning with green fire. "He didn't love me. He didn't care if I had died in that snow. He didn't take me because he felt sympathy. He took me because he saw an opportunity."

"He saw a pawn in a play for peace; a bargaining chip, a stolen relic, stored away until it could serve its purpose."

They stood, nearly eye to eye despite their height difference. All that filled the tense air was the sound of Loki's heavy breathing as he glared into Thor's eyes, their gazes never parting.

Opening his mouth, Thor finally broke the silence. "I…I did not know," His words were unpracticed and stunned, as if he was unsure as to what he should say.

"Yes," Loki hissed. "Yes, you did."

The thunderer shook his head. "No, I knew you had been adopted, but I was not told from where."

"And would that have changed anything?" He growled. "Had that knowledge changed how I was treated? How outcast I became?"

Stunned silence greeted him again, as none dared to move, lest the tension tear apart at the seams. He glanced around at them, hardening his eyes. "Yes, I would've become a pariah far quicker and hated much more than I already am."

There was a pause of silence, before it was ripped asunder once again.

"Not by me," Thor whispered. He clasped a hand on Loki's back. "Never by me."

Loki's glare softened for all but a half second, before intensifying. He shifted his head down and out the window and shrugged the hand off his shoulder, the midday sun shining brightly over the New York skyline. No one moved, no one stirred. All was quiet as Thor's words resounded throughout the back of his mind.

A loud, chiming beep jarred them all from the trance they'd each fallen into. Tony's gaze immediately flew to the computer opposite the room. He glanced at the others quickly before jogging over and away from the tension, clicking a few keys on the computer's keyboard.

"Fury," He muttered. Another two clicks and a wave of his hand and the director appeared on the screen. He appeared different somehow, under more anxiety and stress than before, with a foreboding countenance around him.

His eye roved across the three that gathered there, taking a mental note of their own countenances. Finally he dropped his gaze to Tony before he spoke.

"Something's wrong; very, very wrong."

* * *

**Pfft, whatever could be wrong? Your teammates are only ****_trapped in a cave as fire threatens to engulf them._**** Nothing that bad. :P A**

**Also Baldr. He wasn't supposed to be involved in this fic in any way shape or form, but hey, things change. **

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are always appreciated!**


	16. Triple Point

**Sorry for the wait. School is a rather painstaking interruption when it comes to writing. :P**

**Also, Triple Point: the point in a chemical reaction where the substance is a liquid, solid, and a gas, all at the same time. This usually occurs right before it explodes. Or at least that's what happened in the lab when I did it. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Something in Loki's stomach dropped as a horrible feeling sunk deep into his chest. Worry spiked through his veins, speeding up his heart and in turn the warm thrum of his magic. His gaze flew up to the man in the screen, who now stared pointedly at him as he spoke, as if the underlying suspicions could not be any clearer in his tone.

"Barton and Romanoff's jet took off a few hours ago. We only realized their communications were faulty soon after they had left, so we monitored their location as they went. They were roughly somewhere over Germany when their navigator suddenly cut out. We believe their jet was shot down."

With each word, each person in the room became more and more somber, the uncertainty threading quickly through each of them. Tony of all of them seemed the most confused, his mind whirring with possibilities.

"But…they're alive, right?"" Jane muttered quietly from behind the others, asking the question everyone had, but feared to ask,

"They have to be!" Tony shouted indignantly, not giving Fury a chance to answer the woman. "Those two are more stubborn than the viscosity of syrup! There's no way they'd let something like a plane crash stop them!"

Loki didn't hear the director's response. He didn't really hear any of them after Jane's question. He slowly sank down to the floor and closed his eyes, jerking as his magic twitched again painfully. Blowing out a slow breath, he let the magic loose, letting it tear across the planes Midgard, reaching beyond land and ocean to find its distressed counterpart. Its warmth enveloped him as it pulled swiftly toward the Hawk.

As he felt the familiar magic from afar, he slowed his own to keep from accidently giving the Hawk a concussion from the force of the impact. All of a sudden he slapped against the mental wall, twitching to the side from the collision. He could feel his mind flittering with the strain of the reach, but held fast as he searched for the window that had been there before.

The window graciously showed itself faster than he had anticipated, and he took account of what he saw; Shadows, flickering about from what could only be fire, and a woman's face that looked strikingly like the Widow. She was held close to the eyes he saw through.

A shout jarred him from his concentration, nearly sending the magical stretch snapping back all the way to New York. He hissed as his hold on the Hawk slipped, and he scrambled to grasp it again before it was sent careening into nowhere. As another yell split his focus he growled.

"Would you all still your tongues?!" He yelled, his eyes still clenched shut. He heaved in a breath, not realizing the effort he had been exerting upon himself. "I cannot keep this up with your inane babblings interrupting me."

Silence immediately fell after his outburst and he focused again on the window. He could vaguely feel all their eyes trained on him, confusion behind their intent. He hissed through his teeth as his mind strained to exist in both places.

Maybe they had said his name. Maybe they had prodded him. Maybe they had asked him a question. It didn't matter what they had said. He didn't hear it. He hardly felt the fleeting spasm that wracked his body once more. It was so much easier if he just focused on one place and stuck with it. This would've been far less taxing with the rest of his magic…

Pushing the depressing thought away, Loki concentrated once again on what the Hawk saw. Sucking in a sharp breath, he split his stream of magic in half, the second part searching for another part of the Hawk's mind. In a moment, he found what he was looking for. Now? Now came the hard part.

Forming the words he wished to say in his mind, he projected them through the magic, its volume fluctuating with each twist of the stream.

_"Where are you, Hawk?"_

The window shifted abruptly as the Hawk looked away from the Widow, the window narrowing. Nothing changed and Loki mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner that the Hawk would not understand how his magic worked. With more effort than before, and letting more emotion slip than he had intended, he formed another series of words.

_"I cannot hear your voice. I only see what you see."_

A sudden darkness filled the window and Loki growled in irritation. He should've expected that. He really should've expected that.

Fatigue crept through his mind, the magic's reach straining desperately to keep hold. Knowing the time quickly slipped through his fingers, the trickster formed the first question again.

"_Where are you?"_

His vision remained a black expanse of ebony. A sudden snapping sound filled his mind and pain surged from his heart and throughout. Loki bit his tongue to keep from yelling as the broken magical string snapped back, slamming painfully back into his chest. He heaved a breath and clenched his eyes tighter, focusing again on the Hawk.

Straining to form another string of words together, much longer than before, he projected it back into his magic. It seemed to bend and groan under his own stress, but obeyed nonetheless.

"_They can't help if they don't know where you are." _A pause, to let his mind recover some, before he continued, "_You know you will both perish if they don't come."_

The ebony remained for what felt like long, agonizing hours, before it disappeared, the shadows dancing in the firelight again. There was suddenly a stretch of sand, and a hand writing slowly in it; a hand marred with blood and grime. He inwardly grimaced at the injury, but resolved to worry about it later.

Each letter came unbearably slow as another string of magic threatened to strain itself into snapping. He could hardly see the letters through a fog that clouded the Hawk's vision, but see them he could nonetheless. It started with a 'B', then an 'r'…

Finally, the Hawk pulled his hand away and stared at the word. It took only a moment for Loki to read it and commit it to memory. After another passing second his gaze flicked upward, at a raging fire and a crashing river outside. He stored that as well, along with the name.

He waited for any other sign, despite the stress against his mind. The Hawk shifted, his eyes falling once again upon the Widow. Something surged across the magical strings tethered to him; something strong. All of a sudden, the stress lightened, the strain eased, and the fatigue faded. He bit his lip and forced three more words into the strings as the window closed once again into ebony and the magic snapped out of the Hawk's mind, crashing back into him.

"_Forgive me, Hawk."_

There was a loud snap that only he could hear as he loosed the hold his magic had desperately clung to and it careened painfully back into his chest. The sudden force was enough to throw him into the side of the couch he had knelt against. His eyes flicked open the second his magic was back in his chest. He could vaguely hear voices calling his name among the ringing. He groaned, setting his head back and letting his eyes fall closed again. He heaved in another breath before he spoke.

"Braunschweig," He rasped. "They're by Braunschweig."

He heard someone shout, before somebody else ran past him and something shifted against him. There was another shout, before there was silence again.

"There's…" He began again, his voice hoarser than he wished, "a forest fire, and they're in a…a cave beside a river…"

Loki tried to push himself up, but couldn't. He couldn't feel anything. His head was pounding, the strain's toll fully taken. He could feel its spasms wrack through his whole body. He shivered at the pain, but kept his eyes closed. The ringing had ceased, but indecipherable sounds still echoed in his ears.

A presence was next to him, whispering in his ear with a light voice like the caress of wind's most gentle breezes, "Thank you."

He nodded numbly, groaning as he managed to push himself upright against the couch. Opening his eyes, he blinked at the sudden emptiness the room seemed to carry. Mindful of the pounding that resounded throughout his head, he glanced around. Both Thor and Tony had disappeared and the screen had gone dark. Jane sat next to him on the couch and another woman stood nearby, apparently only just now aware of what had just transpired.

She glanced about the vacated room, confused by whatever had just occurred. Her gaze settled on him and Jane and she arched a confused eyebrow.

"Hawkeye and Black Widow's plane crashed," She supplied. Patting Loki on the shoulder, she continued, "Loki figured out where and Tony and Thor left to go help them."

Pepper's hand lifted to her face and she rubbed a weary hand across her brow with a sigh. "Why doesn't he _tell_ me before he leaves to do this stuff?"

Not a second after the words left her lips did her phone ring. She stared at it dumbly for a moment before answering, stepping away to rant to her beau about informing her on his escapades.

Jane and Loki both sat in silence for a minute as the trickster allowed his breaths to come in heavy and quick. He shifted under her hand narrowing his eyes out the window.

Something didn't feel right. Something was still wrong.

A throaty, cold, and rasping laugh filled the room, and Loki automatically flinched at the horrible sound, his eyes flying wide. Something in his mind clicked and his blood ran cold. He recognized that laugh. He recognized it from his nightmares. He tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat.

His gaze tore up to the screen where Fury had but a minute before spoken to them from, but now a different face filled it; a face he had hoped he would never see again.

It laughed again and both Jane and Pepper's attention was torn to it, the CEO's phone slipping from her grasp and clattering to the ground. Horror filled her eyes as she recognized the similar features, the strange armor, and the screeches that echoed its laughter, realizing in terror her theories from before had just been proven correct.

Loki wanted to get away, to vanish himself like he had done so many times before. But he couldn't. He had just drained his energy and his magic's thrum came slower, more labored, but still there. The creature's gaze locked onto his emerald eyes and he went rigid under Jane's stunned hand.

"Ah, there you are, trickster," It purred disgustingly. "We missed you."

Choking back a strangled breath, Loki stayed silent, unmasked terror in his eyes. Nobody spoke, nor did anybody move as they waited for the creature to continue.

"I warned you," It rasped, a howling screech echoing form behind him. "I warned you what would happen if you failed us; if you failed _him_."

He didn't answer, a cloud of fog growing around his vision. He could feel his heart hammering madly in his chest, refusing to relent to the unconsciousness that clawed at the edges of his mind with each passing second the creature remained.

"How much blood are you willing to spill?" It hissed in a sick sense of casualness. "How many lives are you willing to risk for your own sake?"

His body refused to respond. He just stared, eyes wide with fear, at the creature he wished he had never met.

It continued, nonetheless, its voice grating and scratchy, "It would be so much easier if you simply gave yourself up to us."

At his horrified expression, the creature let out another rasping, guttural laugh. "You think you have found safety among those who defeated you? Pathetic, running to your enemies for protection from your allies. You're alone here, whelp."

"You are far from my allies," Loki stammered, his words sounding much less confident than he had intended.

It laughed again, horribly and grating. It smiled cruelly, another shrill screech heard from behind. "We will see you soon enough, runt. You will pay for your failure."

The screen faded into static, before it blinked off. All remained silent, each frozen in terror and unsure of what to do. The lights suddenly flashed brightly. They increased in brightness until they each had to cover their eyes. They abruptly shattered into nothing, the girls crying out at the sudden ebony that followed the sound.

Jane lifted her eyes slowly, carefully looking around before settling them on the trickster under her hand. "Loki?" She asked quietly.

He didn't move, he didn't speak. The unending line of stress he had just put himself through was quickly taking more toll than he thought it would. His magic was sore from its journey and in turn had stretched his mind to limits he hadn't realized he could push himself to. Had he had the rest of his magic, the exertion would not have been needed, but with most of it gone, the fatigue was seeping in faster than he had first anticipated.

And now this. Now it was confirmed the Chitari had found him, coming for him. They would make him suffer for his failure and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had been an idiot for thinking the refuge the Avengers offered would last. How could he have been so stupid? They could barely hold back an invasion fleet fueled by greed. How would they fare against a battle fought for revenge?

Grunting, Loki leaned against the couch. They wouldn't find out. He was weak now, helpless and unimportant. He was going to die on Jotunheim anyway. What did it matter if he died by the Chitari instead? It wouldn't interfere with his sentence.

But then again, Loki knew their leader better than that. He knew he would not surrender him to death immediately, as much as he loved her. He would want him to pay for his failure, revel in his pain. They wouldn't kill him. They would toy with his pain, just as they did in his nightmares.

Soon enough, those nightmares were about to become reality.

He could've sworn someone was talking to him, or trying to, but he couldn't hear anything. The events that had just transpired were too taxing, and he could feel exhaustion seeping into his veins as his vision clouded and black dots danced in his eyesight. With another groan, he let his eyes slip closed and welcomed the overwhelming ebony that awaited him.

* * *

"Braunschweig. They're in Braunschweig."

The second the words left Loki's mouth, Tony was moving. His mind had narrowed on a single focus and he wasn't about to stop until the goal was accomplished, no matter what stood in the way. He tore down the stairs and toward his armor, shouting as he went.

"Jarvis! Fire up the Mark 7 and tell me if he sees anything else!"

"_Sir, he says the two assassins are in a forest fire, sheltered by a cave near a river."_

"Got it!"

It took only a minute for him to reach his armor, and far less than that for it to latch systematically around him. As it clicked into place and his helmet slid into down, he immediately activated the jets. Graphs and scans swung into his vision, only noticed absent mindedly. He flew out and around the tower; stopping at the glass sided living room he had been in minutes before. He shoved aside the glass door aside and beckoned his Asgardian comrade.

"Point Break! Grab your magical hammer and let's go!"

Thor patted his brother, saying something to him that Tony wasn't quite sure the trickster heard, and ran out. There was the sound of glass shattering before Mjolnir flew into his hand. The billionaire didn't pause to wonder why glass had shattered, instead turning toward the ocean and tearing off. Thor swung his hammer and took off after him, trusting him to lead him in the right direction. As they ripped across the sky, Tony continued speaking to the AI.

"Jarvis, contact Steve and Bruce and tell them to take a quinjet to the closest SHEILD base to Braunschweig, Germany."

"_Will do, sir."_

He pushed the jets harder, his speed increasing. At this rate, it would still take them both hours to get even close to Braunschweig…

He only hoped they could make it in time.

"Jarvis," Tony muttered, focusing on the route to Germany, "Call Pepper, would you?"

Pepper's face appeared amongst the scans and graphs, a welcome sight amongst the sudden stress. Faint ringing echoed in his ears as Jarvis called her. Within a second or two, the CEO's voice replaced the ringing, frantic and worried.

_"Tony, why can't you tell me before you do this stuff?" _She scolded.

The billionaire smiled to himself at her reprimanding before answering. "Just keepin' you on your toes, Peps."

He swore he could hear her eye roll at his statement. "_You do enough of that normally."_

Letting a laugh escape, despite the tense situation, he responded, "Really? 'Cause I think I've been slacking…" He smirked, waiting for her answer.

There was a sound that sounded eerily like the phone crashing to the ground and a horrible rasping laugh filtering faintly into the implanted microphone. Tony's smirk faded.

"Peps?"

_"Shh."_

Tony blinked at her shushing. Somehow she had managed to convey a terror in the one word that he would not be able to show with a thousand. Something new resounded through the phone. He strained his ears to hear the gravelly voice that barely filtered through the phone. It sounded farther away, perhaps across the room.

"_I warned you. I warned you what would happen if you failed us; if you failed him."_

All of a sudden, his blood seemed to run cold. That voice sounded too similar to the creatures they had driven back six months ago. Too similar to be coincidence, but who was it talking to? He vaguely realized his jets had slowed, and Thor was beside him, staring in confusion.

_"How much blood are you willing to spill? How many lives are you willing to risk for your own sake?"_

He swallowed at the horrible voice, its words grating on his nerves despite how barely he could make them out.

"Jarvis? Can you turn up the volume?"

The next words came clearer, louder, and more rasping and disgusting than before.

"_It would be so much easier if you simply gave yourself up to us."_ It paused, a guttural laugh echoing terribly, before it continued,_ "You think you have found safety among those who defeated you? Pathetic, running to your enemies for protection from your allies."_

Before Tony could quite process what that all meant, a new voice filtered in, quieter and stammering with an underlying fear he had never heard its bearer let slip.

"_You are far from my allies."_

"Loki," He whispered. They'd left Loki alone in the tower with only Jane and Pepper! What had he been thinking?! His reprimand was cut short, however, as the voice from before filtered back in.

_"We will see you soon enough, runt. You will pay for your failure."_

There was a stunned silence that went on for a minute or two. Tony strained to hear anything more, but heard nothing. Suddenly, something shattered and Pepper screamed.

"Pepper!" The billionaire shouted frantically, his jets slowing so he could hover, Thor stopping beside him with a puzzled expression.

"_I'm fine,"_ The CEO's sweet voice whispered, underlying fear remaining. "_The lights just shattered."_

Tony vaguely heard Thor mutter something in annoyance and motioned to him to continue on. The Asgardian gave him a look of bewilderment, but flew on in the general direction he had been guided. The genius sighed wearily.

"I wish you weren't right all the time, Peps…"

_"In this case? Me too," _She muttered back. "_We'll be fine, just go get Clint and Natasha back. By the looks of it, the Chitari are still trying to get the portal to earth to open. We've got some time."_

_"_And in that case, I'm glad you're right all the time," He smirked, speeding up his suit to catch up with his Asgardian comrade. "Is Blitzen okay?"

"_I think he's fine. Looks like he passed out_."

"Alright keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't wake up and blow up my tower."

"_I'll be sure of that."_

"Thanks, Pep, I'll see ya when I get back."

"_You better."_

He laughed and clicked the call off. Watching the water and clouds speed past him, he sighed wearily. This was going to be an excruciatingly long trip and at the end of it laid two of his teammates in the midst of a raging fire. Any normal person wouldn't have survived the ordeal he was sure they just went through, but Clint and Natasha were anything but normal. He'd discovered that first hand.

Tony also knew that if anyone was stubborn enough to survive long enough for help to arrive, then it was his two assassin comrades.

Despite this, he also knew they were still painfully human. They still had flaws that the rest of the team didn't quite share. Whether it be a super serum or a gift born of blood, the rest of the team didn't share the fragile human qualities the rest of the world did. Though Clint and Natasha held abilities that didn't quite seem natural, they remained human and with that fact came all its weaknesses.

After all, there was only so much blood one could lose before there was nothing left _to_ lose.

Shaking away the depressing thoughts, Tony refocused on his goal; getting to Braunschweig as fast as possible and hauling the two SHEILD agents out of the fire before it consumed them.

They would make it in time. They had to.

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**Hope you enjoyed! These last two weeks were particularly hectic for me. Hopefully the next chapter won't be a week away~**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated! :)**


	17. Of Blood Stained Stone

******Thanks for sticking around guys, I know my posting schedule has been longer between updates as of late. C: Hopefully I'll be able to kick that habit soon...**

******Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

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_The smooth, flat terrain stretched as far as his eye could see. Its surface was like a mirror in the blue tinted ebony, akin to the faint reflection of a gemstone. He walked forward, the stone below tainted with red stains, obscuring the mirrored surface. His boots clacked noisily against the ground, the only sound in the extensive void. _

_Suddenly, another set of footsteps sounded behind him. He spun around, his bow upright and arrow nocked. _

_Agent Coulson stared back at him, fully alive and well. _

_Something tugged at his arm, his mind twitching in irritation. A shimmering string of icy blue light appeared for a narrow second before vanishing. His finger flinched, the arrow nearly flying into the man's chest. _

"_Kill him," The wind whispered faintly in his ear, with its words the tug at his mind intensifying._

_His bow did not waver from its position, but the arrow did not loose. He drew in a shaky breath, his mind fighting back the torrent of pain that erupted with each second he hesitated with his finger around the arrow's shaft. _

"_Kill him," It whispered again, the sound resonating within his head. _

_He pulled in another agonizing breath before he spoke, his voice echoing in the ebony dreamscape. _

"_No."_

_The single word sent a surge of pain through his body. He bit his tongue, but other than that made no movement, refusing to recognize the pain. _

_Another glimmer of icy light caught his eye. He breathed again and lifted his bow into the sky above, finally letting the arrow tear from its string. _

_A terrible snap reverberated throughout the area and he gasped as something seemed to careen into his head. He fell to his knees, lifting his head in time to see the shimmer of the blue string's light recoil into the ebony, far out of sight. _

"_Clint."_

_He snapped his head back forward. The agent smiled sadly at him. A suffocating silence enveloped him as he waited for his lost friend to speak. _

"_You're not a monster, Clint," Coulson whispered, a smile on his face. _

_An ebony fog began to shroud them both, coating the mirrored stone. He jumped to his feet, running toward the SHEILD agent. _

"_Wait!" He yelled in childish need. "Wait! Phil, don't leave!"_

_The fog grew thicker, completely veiling the man from his view. He kept running despite this, twisting and turning in the haze as he desperately searched for the agent. _

"_Thank you, Clint," Coulson's voice echoed over the blue tinted ebony. _

"_Wait!" He shouted again, desperately. _

_He could no longer see in front of him, the fog growing too dense. Despite this, he ran on, relentless. The haze spilled around him as he tore through its ebony cloud, searching in vain. _

"_Barton!" A new voice shouted._

_Stopping, he looked up and around, searching for the source of the echoing sound. He panted, spinning about, straining to hear it again. _

"Barton!"

Clint's eyes snapped open and he instantly groaned at the wave of pain that cascaded through his body. He blinked at his surroundings, straining to remember what had happened before. Rock was about him, sand underneath. Glancing around again, he caught sight of something gold and red flash past the opening to the cave he and Natasha had taken refuge in, a smoldering tree blocking the entrance mostly from view.

He pushed himself up, wincing at the pain that whisked through his back, though his ankle felt much better, oddly.

"Barton!" The voice shouted again, his cleared senses finally registering the voice.

"Stark!" The archer shouted. "Over here!"

The assassin felt another presence shift against him and quickly tore his gaze back to his partner, Natasha. Her bloodied and marred face had still lain pristine with sleep, but now she twitched, her eyes flitting open. Clint felt a wave of relief wash through him as their eyes met. He set his head against the rock wall and smiled down at her.

"Clint?" She murmured, struggling to push herself up. "What…what happened?"

Before he could answer, the flaming log in front of the alcove abruptly shifted, thrown to the side by strong arms. Red and gold flashed in front of it as the armor clad Tony Stark knelt before the opening. He sighed in relief at the sight of the two assassins. His helmet slid back and he scrutinized the two agents.

"You are never allowed to fly any of my planes. Ever."

Clint smirked up at him, letting out a snarky reply, the spy beside him letting relief flood her eyes. Another form appeared next to Tony, tall and muscular with long golden hair.

"Come, friends," Thor said, smiling. "We must hasten back to the tower. Trouble is brewing."

For a moment, the archer wondered when Thor had showed up, but his muddled brain didn't seem to care too much. Tony walked in, stopping as he spied the scrawled word in the sand.

"Braunschweig…" He read carefully. The billionaire smirked, looking up at Clint. "So that's how he knew."

The archer's smirk fell as he remembered the voice that had resonated in his head from before. He blinked, glancing down at the word he had carved in the sand.

"Wait…you mean, he wasn't…?"

"Nay," Thor responded. "My brother was not lying. He went through quite a tumult to get just that information.

Natasha shifted warily, looking up at the Asgardian. "Your brother? Loki's here?"

Before Thor could respond, Tony stepped aside. "Look guys, I'd love to stop, chat, have a cup of tea and all that, but there's still a fire outside and I wanna get back to the tower before something-or someone- blows it up."

Clint nodded and pushed himself shakily up, his hands grating against the rock behind him for balance. He lowered a hand that Natasha graciously accepted and helped her up. He winced at the amount of blood that had seeped into her leather clothing. He guessed he didn't look much better if the way she scrutinized him was anything to go by.

"Can you walk?" Thor asked.

The archer took a hesitant step forward, before pain exploded in his ankle. He nearly fell, but was saved as the Asgardian grabbed his arm, guiding it onto his shoulder. He shot him a flare that indicated he could walk all his own if he wanted, but Thor didn't look like he was about to let him prove it. Natasha reluctantly took Tony's offered hand and they all trudged out of the cave.

It felt like something was missing. His comrades were beside him. Natasha was beside him, safe and sound. What was he forgetting? Shifting awkwardly, Clint realized the all too familiar weight on his back was gone. A shot of well concealed anxiety shot through him as he straightened, his gaze flitting about the scene around him. He looked back from where he and Natasha had trudged, longingly.

"I need my bow," He muttered, his eyes not moving from where he had come.

Tony only smirked, looking up into the ebony above.

"I need my bow," Clint repeated with more force and a glare sent Tony's way.

"Chill, Katniss. You weren't our first stop."

With an eye roll, Clint glanced about him, noticing the sheer abundance of fire that continued to tear through the forest, though its consuming rage had wavered. A loud sound resonated from above, the wind whipping around them in a flurry of crisp air. A black shape descended from above, slowly and carefully, its form blocking the dots of light in the stretching ebony above.

It finally hovered before them, rocking back and forth uncertainly. The ramp slid downward as Steve Rogers shifted close to its edge to aid them into the quinjet. Tony helped Natasha onto the ramp, much to her chagrin before he hopped in himself. He stretched out his hand, gripping Clint's in it and pulling him up, Thor jumping in with ease.

Both assassins collapsed into the seats against the side of the quinjet, its ramp sliding back into place. Clint closed his eyes and reveled in the sound of his breathing. He heard people shifting; the pilots changing and someone sinking into the seat opposite them, another person moving to the copilot's seat. Opening his eyes, he found Bruce rifling through a medical bag on the floor.

Pushing himself up a bit higher in his chair, Clint stared pointedly at the two battered duffel bags that lay abandoned under the chair Tony sat on.

"I need my bow," He nearly growled, glaring up at the genius.

The armor clad man only smirked and unceremoniously slid the two bags across the floor. The archer leaned forward and rifled through one of them until he pulled out the folded weapon. His eyes scanned over it quickly before he snapped it out to full length. He traced his fingers across its arc, smiling in satisfaction to find it rather pristine for being thrown out of a crashing plane.

Natasha watched the exchange with a curious eye, smiling to see her partner so glad to have his bow back in his hands. Recalling back to what she could remember from the crash, she realized that they were nowhere near a river when the plane had decided to test the law of gravity. How then had she woken in the cave?

Coming to the conclusion that Clint had left behind the most precious thing he owned to save her life, she nudged him and he shifted his gaze to her. The lithe spy smiled earnestly, the blinking lights playing in her eyes.

"Thank you, Clint," she whispered.

The words echoed in his head, just as they had echoed in the void when he dreamed. Those same words had been spoken by Coulson not ten minutes ago in his dream. He still did not understand quite what he'd done for the agent for him to thank him, but he knew there was one thing he could do with this thank you that he couldn't with the other.

"You're welcome," He smiled. She grinned wearily back at him, her head resting against his shoulder.

Bruce was suddenly in front of them both, several medical supplies in his hands and the bag beside him.

"Okay, I know you're both stubborn and probably aren't aware of half your injuries, but I need you to at least tell me about the ones you do know about."

"Nat's first," The archer said almost before the scientist had finished. She sent him a halfhearted glare, but rattled off her injuries anyway. Bruce handed her a few of the medical supplies, helping her with the gash on her head.

She elbowed him playfully, if playfully could be considered a bruise, and muttered, "Your turn."

Clint sat up, his since collapsed bow in his lap, and surveyed all the pain in his body, remembering with a hidden cringe all the injuries he had battled as he crawled across the forest floor.

Except, it wasn't there. None of it. He lifted his arm, expecting to see a charred burn that would most likely scar. But it wasn't there.

"What in the world?" He reached to his gunshot wound, tearing off the bandage despite his partner's protest. He blinked in confusion at the unmarred skin that lay beneath the bandage. "Nat? I got shot there, right?"

She stared in bewilderment at his arm. "Yeah, I bandaged it myself…"

Something warm and comforting thrummed against his chest, faint, but there. He unconsciously lifted a hand to it, though no abnormal warmth radiated outward.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Positive. I _know_ I was shot there."

"My brother's magic is inside you, is it not, noble archer?" Thor asked suddenly watching the ordeal curiously from across the quinjet.

"I…it is?" Clint blinked in bewilderment, confused by the Asgardian's words. When had Loki embedded his magic within him? Was that where the visions had originated? From the linked magic? Had that been why he felt the incessant, icy tugging at his mind the last week?

Unaware of his questions, Thor continued on, "I know Loki often unconsciously healed himself in the midst of battle. One minute there would be a gash against his head and the next it was gone. I believe it became subconscious."

"Wait," Natasha cut in, "You're saying _Loki's_ magic is inside Clint? Since when?"

"Since the battle six months ago, I'd presume."

The archer leaned back in his seat, absolutely dumbfounded by this information. Now that he could recall, the last six months any injuries he had obtained had seemed to heal far quicker than should be possible. However, as they had been rather minor, he hadn't given it a second thought.

And the newfound warmth in his chest? Was that of the magic's doing too? Now, that had only come about recently, of that much he was sure.

"Well, regardless," Bruce said, rousing him from his thoughts. "It probably hasn't healed everything. Does anything else hurt?"

Clint pushed himself back up, putting pressure down on his ankle and sending a jolt of pain up his leg. Holding back a wince, he pointed down at it. "Yeah, my ankle. I'm pretty sure I broke it."

Bruce looked at it, feeling for broken bones. "It doesn't feel broken…"

Barely catching Thor's smirk, the archer replied, "Well it _was_ broken."

The Asgardian chuckled at his expense, Clint shaking his head at the strange situation. The scientist sat up, rooting through the medical bag beside him. "It definitely is sprained though. We'll have to ice it when we get back."

"If it isn't completely healed by then," Natasha muttered from beside him with a wry grin, her eyes half closed and her head leaning on his shoulder. Bruce rolled his eyes and stood up, seating himself in the chair beside Thor.

Silence then reigned, dragging on for an hour and more. Clint didn't know, and neither did his partner. As the calm thrum of the jet's engine continued on throughout the flight, so did their even breathing as they fell into real sleep born not of exhaustion and unconsciousness. They slept in the presence of those they trusted, in the comrades they had faith in. Not many others possessed that privilege; that trust. The two assassins did not give out their trust easily, especially after the backstabs in their past and the constant reminding scars of betrayal they bore.

Trust was far from an easy thing to gain from the two SHEILD agents, yet those other four had won it and in those four the partners had faith in.

As the jet sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, steadily growing closer to the tower, no dreams plagued the archer's mind. The string had snapped, and with it its hold. Though the magic remained, it now held a warm feeling. It beat strongly against his chest, warm and content. The string and the magic felt different; two forces both used for the same thing, yet with different intent. While one held his consciousness in a constant state of guilt, the other was a soothing balm in his pain.

Though they had served the same purpose, they had felt so different. Like a suffocating chain dragging him about compared to a gentle guiding hand he followed willingly.

He shook his head, deciding it didn't matter. He was reminded all too well of another dream he'd had. The strings had been gone, but he was still capable of being a monster. Then again, wasn't everybody capable of being a monster?

The warm thrum against his chest intensified, lulling him back into sleep as it beat in time with his heart and, for once in the past six months, Clint finally felt at ease.

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**And Clint and Natasha are finally rescued! Yay!**

**Funfact: I rewrote the entire bit with Clint's bow, so if it sounds weird, it's because it was written a month or two after the rest of the chapter.**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism is always appreciated! C:**


	18. Revelation

**Happy Easter, everybody! C: Thanks for all your patience with me and my strange update schedules~**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

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_Cold metal bit sharply into his skin, red seeping out from beneath. He looked down at the expanse of rock below, their screeches and guttural howls echoing in the air. Suddenly, all noise ceased and he lifted his head, squinting through the blood threatening to drip into his eyes. _

_A golden figure stood before him, the creatures shrinking back at the power he emanated. He met the figure's eyes; eyes filled with disappointment and anger. He drew in a shaky breath, shuddering under the cold chains around his wrists and neck._

_The figure looked down at him and moved his gaze away. Slowly, he sank back into the fog, never looking back at the one he had called his son. _

"_No!" He shrieked, shoving aside the creature beside him. "No! Don't leave me here! Please!"_

_It seemed as if the figure did not here him, his form fading away into the cloud of ebony. _

_Biting hands grabbed his arms, dragging him away from the figure. He fought, shrieking in protest. "Father! Help me! Please!"_

_His body had gone numb. There was pain. He knew it. He could feel it, yet at the same time, he felt nothing. His heart sank and he could barely feel his sobbing. They shoved him into the ground, the sharp rocks underneath ripping into his skin. They kicked him and beat him, red seeping from his wounds and pooling around his body. _

_He couldn't feel any of it. His mind had frozen on the figure's expression; an expression of disappointment and anger. It had burned into his mind, filling his vision. The figure didn't love him. The figure didn't care about him. There was no one else here but the creatures that surrounded him. _

_No one was coming to save him. No one cared. He was abandoned and left for dead._

_He was alone. _

Loki gasped, jerking awake. The sudden movement flung him off the side of the bed on which he had been situated and he fell to the ground with a thud. His eyes struggling to focus on anything but residual images of an ebony expanse and cold rock, he untangled himself from the blankets that had fallen with him, sitting up.

"Brother!"

There was another presence beside him suddenly and he cringed at its close proximity. He strained to get his eyes to focus, pushing away the form next to him. The trickster gripped the bedside and hauled himself to his feet, the resounding dreamscape slowly fading from memory.

He finally blinked away the fog in his eyes that had shrouded his surroundings in a haze of blurriness. Groaning, he leaned against the wall, surveying his surroundings. He was back in Thor's room, the bed beside him in a tossed state, but the room otherwise immaculate. Thor stood beside him, watching him carefully lest he collapse again. Jane stood near the couch, her hand raised to her lips as she seemed to study him for potential injuries.

"What happened?" He asked, cringing at his scratchy voice.

The astrophysicist raised an eyebrow, but appeared to mull over her words carefully, the older Asgardian remaining silent as he had not witnessed the event from before.

"The Chitari called," She muttered, lifting her eyes to meet his. "They're coming."

His heart began to hammer madly in his chest as his dream flowed unbidden back to the forefront of his mind. The screeches, the howls, the guttural laughing, they all echoed in his head, sending shivers of terror down his spine.

They were coming. They were coming for him.

Swallowing thickly, he lowered his eyes and whispered, "Then let them have me."

"What!?" The warrior beside him shouted, making his ears ring. "Brother, I will not let those wretches have you. They have wrought enough damage."

"Do you have any idea what they'll do?" Loki snarled, whipping his head up to face the older Asgardian. "Do you have any idea how many they'll kill to get to me?" He lowered his head again, looking out to the setting sun, "It is better for everyone if I just let them have me."

A silent moment passed as the trickster kept his eyes on the horizon, the warrior by him remaining motionless and the scientist watching carefully, wondering what to say. The silence was shattered as a clap of thunder resounded throughout the sky and Thor shoved his arms out, Loki suddenly finding himself on the ground.

He snapped his eyes open, looking up at the warrior in shock. Thor glared down at him, something unfamiliar in his eyes.

"What is wrong with you?" He whispered, "What happened to the brother who fought valiantly by my side, refusing to give up even in the direst of circumstances? The brother who confounded even the most skilled magicians and tricked the smartest of scholars? The brother who found a solution to problems that even stumped the Allfather," He stopped, his blue eyes searching the emerald ones, "What happened to you?"

Loki narrowed his eyes, pushing himself up and struggling to meet the warrior's height. "What happened to me?" He hissed. "I survived death only to be thrown into a worse fate. I had my mind ripped out and replaced with only a fragment of who I was remaining. I wrought destruction and killed innocent people, and we both know the battle six months ago was not the first time that has happened," His eyes darkened as he spoke, memories flitting through his mind.

"I'm a problem to be dealt with and the Chitari have taken it upon themselves to find that solution."

Tense silence echoed throughout the room as the trickster and warrior stood eye to eye, challenging the other to make a move. Something flashed in Thor's eye; something he had said had caught the warrior's attention.

"Survived death?" He muttered. "So you _did _intend death when you let go."

"I never said that," Loki cut in curtly, annoyed at the subject change and more irritated that the older Asgardian dared to bring up the one thing he didn't want to talk about; the one thing he never wanted to think about and vowed to mull over tomorrow.

That tomorrow had come.

"And I didn't let go, _you_ tossed me into the void," He added with a snarl.

"How is your memory so damaged? How can you not remember what truly happened?"

"I remember what happened full well," Loki shouted, growling at the back of his throat. "Was it not you who swung Mjolnir to the point of breaking the bridge, tossing as both over the side and into the abyss?"

"But Father…"

"Father did nothing!" He screamed, not quite realizing he had used the term he'd used all his life for Odin. "I fell and what did he do?"

Thor drew in a sharp breath. "Nothing."

"Exactly," the trickster growled, "You _let_ me fall. Both of you."

"There was nothing I could do!"

"Was there?" He hissed. "Was there _nothing_?"

Thor swallowed, looking down into the pain stricken emerald eyes that stared so hopelessly into his, shining with a terrible loneliness. His tone softened to a whisper as he spoke, "You let go. You gave up, Loki. You have never given up. Why? Why did you do it?"

Loki drew in a sharp breath, eye shimmering with tears he refused to let fall. His gaze flicked outside to the setting sun as he replied, "I tried. I tried my whole life to be as good as you; to prove I was just as good as you. But your shadow of greatness grew too large for me to overcome and all of Asgard was too blinded by your might to see the arrogant, warmongering idiot underneath."

He paused, his breath shuddering for a moment. "That is why I let the Jotun into Asgard on your coronation day," He ignored the stunned expression that took over the warrior and continued; "I had to show the rest of Asgard what only I could see. You were not ready to be king and you were willing to hurl yourself into war to prove your might to people who already knew it; to people who already loved you. You did not have to do anything to prove yourself. I spent my entire life trying to do the same, yet as I hung over the abyss, I was still rejected. I still wasn't good enough. I still wasn't loved. I knew at that moment I never would be."

"So…I let go and you and Odin did nothing to stop me."

His emerald eyes rose up to meet the blue ones, shining with a burning intensity. A dull silence vibrated throughout the room, ringing in their ears and drumming against their heads. Thor stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the younger Asgardian, pulling him close to his chest. Loki clenched his eyes shut and did not move, didn't resist.

"Oh, Loki," Thor whispered, his voice rumbling like thunder, "I am so sorry."

The trickster blinked open his eyes and shuddered another breath. Slowly, his arms reached out and around Thor-his brother. They embraced each other as the thunderer repeatedly breathed apologies into his ears. They stayed that way for a while and Loki reveled in the warm, strong arms around him. He could feel the older Asgardian's heartbeat thrum in his ears and felt his magic swell in excitement, beating in time with the heartbeat.

Eventually, they pulled away and the warrior clasped a hand around his shoulder.

"Will you forgive me, Brother?"

Loki's mouth twitched as he made to criticize the endearment, but thought better of it. His eyes flitted out to the horizon again, scanning it curiously. One apology for thousands of years of pain? It was better than what Asgard had ever given him, to be sure, but he still didn't feel like he was quite ready to forgive his brother for all that had happened; for the ignorance, the pride, and the ebony shadow he unwittingly cast.

Sighing, he looked back up to the hopeful thunderer. His lips twitching in some sort of a smile, he replied, "Not yet…but I'll consider it."

Thor's face fell slightly, but he still seemed hopeful to find that the younger Asgardian had even given it a thought. He clapped a hand on the trickster's soldier with a smile.

"I look forward to your decision," He said happily.

"I'm glad you guys could sort that out," Jane said with a smile from her perch by the couch. Her voice made both their gazes swivel over to meet hers. Her voice grew more serious as she glanced out the window, "But we've still got other problems to deal with."

Loki's mood suddenly fell and he dropped his eyes. "Oh, right."

Smiling sadly, she continued, "I'm sure we'll figure something out. Maybe we can convince the other Avengers to help?"

The trickster sighed, collapsing onto the bed beside him. "You don't understand. You can't fight them. There's too many of them. The force the Avengers defeated six months ago was a simple invasion fleet, a small portion of their army's true size. If they want me, they'll take me and kill anyone in their way. It's safer for everyone if I just surrender to them."

"Is that what he meant?" Jane said quickly before Thor could respond. "Is that what he meant when he asked how much blood you were willing to spill?"

"That is the most logical conclusion, yes."

Another dead silence filled the room as the scientist lifted a hand to her mouth again as she mulled over thoughts. "Why don't you go back to Asgard?"

"Futile. They'll destroy Midgard before renewing their search for vengeance," He answered curtly, choosing not to mention what else would happen if he returned to Asgard.

Jane began to pace around the room anxiously as the warrior spoke, "There must be something we can do! I will not stand idly by and let them take you, not after I have just gotten you back."

Biting his lip, Loki muttered, "There might be something…"

Whirling around, Thor looked earnestly and excitedly down at him, hope flooding his eyes, "What? What is it?"

His emerald eyes lifted to meet his brother's. "It's a stab in the dark; a dance on the edge of the knife whose blade we can't see."

"…in words I can understand?"

Rolling his eyes, the trickster replied, "I don't know if it'll work. There are too many variables right now. We have to narrow the playing field before anything can be certain."

Nodding his head in understanding, Thor moved to speak again, but was interrupted by the door creaking open. Each of their heads turned to meet the new occupant that stood in the doorway. Bruce leaned casually against the doorframe and surveyed the room with a curious expression. His eyes finally locked on Loki's and held as he spoke.

"Barton and Romanoff are back."

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**Y'know what happens next right? ;)**

**Thanks for reading! I think y'know what I appreciate by now~**


	19. House of Cards

**Late update is late and apologetic author is apologetic for such a delay. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Clint stirred from his first peaceful sleep in months as the wheels of the quinjet slammed against the tarmac. Both Tony and Thor had long since gone to the tower as soon as the New York shore was in sight. The quinjet, however, went to the SHEILD base, as the billionaire had yet to find a place to land the thing anywhere near the tower.

He blinked his eyes open, moving to push himself up, but stopping at the warm body against his shoulder. Glancing at his partner, he smiled, nudging her awake. Her eyes flittered open and she looked up at him with a grin. Clint carefully pushed himself up as the quinjet eased to a stop. He put pressure on his previously broken ankle, smirking as only a dull, faint throb remained.

Helping Natasha to her feet and letting her lean gently against him, they both walked off the ramp and onto the runway with their two teammates following. Glancing back, he smiled at them, silently thanking them for carrying his and his partner's duffels. SHEILD agents scurried about the tarmac, one of them ran up to them, a phone held against his ear.

"Fury wants you to go straight to Avengers Tower and take care of Loki. He says the debriefing can wait 'til that's taken care of," He stated briskly.

Before the agent could scamper off, Clint suddenly gripped his shoulder, staring intensely into his eyes. The man fidgeted nervously under the archer's hand, but looked up questioningly nonetheless.

"Does Fury know who shot down the jet? Or more importantly why we had no communications?" He asked curtly with a raised eyebrow.

The agent glanced to the building for a moment. "I believe we have people looking into it. I'll make sure you acquire that knowledge as soon as we obtain it ourselves," He reassured.

Nodding, Clint muttered a thank you and released the agent to dart off to his other duties. The others watched the exchange with a curious eye. Before anything more could be said on the matter, however, a large, black limousine pulled up in front of them, the Stark Industries logo on its side. Rolling his eyes at the blatant advertising-as if the billionaire needed any more- Clint clambered in, his team mates close on his heel.

It wasn't long before they had pulled up in front of the tower, its height dwarfing any buildings nearby. By then, the sun had begun to set, sending fiery tendrils into the growing ebony above. The archer glared up at the sky for a moment. It had been night for the last twelve hours for him, and it was just now beginning in New York. Time zones could do nasty things to your mental clock.

A few more minutes more and the elevator dinged, indicating it had stopped at the floor on which the others were located. Bracing himself, the doors opened, and Clint opened his eyes, expecting to see chaos wrought by the trickster housed within.

Yet, everything was as it should be, in its place and untouched. Stepping out, the archer looked around, searching for the younger Asgardian that had stolen his mind those six months ago. His roving did not escape the eyes of the other occupants in the room, Tony in particular.

"He's not in here at the moment, Cupid," Tony, now out of his armor and seated near his computer, replied helpfully. "He's up in Point Break's room with Jane and Thor."

The tension he hadn't realized had taken up his muscles seemed to relax a bit. Natasha limped to his side, linking an arm around his shoulder and he saw both Bruce and Steve trek upstairs quietly with their duffels in tow. "Why's he here, Tony?"

The billionaire shifted to face the screens. "Something about Asgardian punishments, but that's not important right now. We've got bigger problems…"

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Define 'bigger problems', because I'm pretty sure Loki's enough of a problem as it is."

"He saved your life y'know," Pepper piped up from the couch halfway across the room.

Ignoring her interjection, Tony continued, "'Bigger problems' as in the Chitari are coming back…for Loki."

The warmth in his chest flared to life, beating rapidly at the mention of the name. The archer lifted a hand to it absent mindedly, watching the billionaire carefully. The Chitari? Hadn't they been defeated those six months ago?

"Let 'em have him then," Natasha said, nearly snarling. "He's their leader isn't he?"

The genius shook his head. "No, he's not. From the sound of it, they're not even his allies. They're looking for him so they can…punish…him for his failure."

Something locked up in Clint's chest, memories of past missions flitting through his mind; memories he had recalled not long before as he crawled along the smoldering forest floor. A knife's sharpened blade, the water in his lungs, the electricity in his veins, and a headache that could only be caused by drugs. If these were what earth's villains promised, then what could creatures from between the realms offer as torture for failure?

He didn't want to know. Frankly, he didn't want anyone to know.

"The only contact we've had from them is when their real leader showed up on my computer and started talking to Green Eyes. Other than that, there's been no contact."

The lithe spy beside him furrowed her brow in thought. "So…no threats, no ransom demands, no plans? You do realize that means they're planning on destroying anything that gets in their way to get him, right?"

"Nat, I'm a genius. Of course I knew that."

Rolling his eyes at the egotistical statement, Clint muttered, "Okay, so we're in for another fight?"

"Maybe not," Pepper replied, standing up from her spot on the couch, all eyes turning to her, "From what I saw, their portal's not ready. They'll probably contact again once they come through it and give us those threats and ransom demands."

"So…we've got time?" The archer asked warily.

"Yes, but we don't know how much. We've gotta start planning what to do now."

"But how can we plan for something we hardly know anything about?" Natasha muttered, grimacing at the memories of the creatures that had invaded.

Dead silence reigned again. Everyone knew the answer to the question, but no one dared suggest the idea; the idea of allying themselves with the root of the problem. How could they trust someone who had wrought such destruction, mind control nonetheless? No one spoke as they each mulled over the options, before suddenly, a voice broke through the silence.

"We have to go to the one who's dealt with them before," Clint muttered, raising his eyes to meet the others, his eyes burning with some dark memory, "We have to go to Loki."

* * *

The sound of footsteps echoed down the stairway and the five occupants of the living room all twitched their gazes toward the sound, eyes lingering at different lengths. Clint sat in the rafters, above everyone else, having clambered up when Tony's back was turned and in the process continued to baffle the genius as to his method of reaching the beams above the room. The aforementioned still sat contently at his computer, Steve hovering nearby having dropped off Natasha's bag by her room. The lithe spy had perched herself on the couch, stubbornly ignorant of her injuries, with Pepper standing nearby her.

Bruce led the strange trio behind him, Jane walking in pace with him, Thor and Loki walking side by side after them. The trickster could feel each set of eyes training on him, each with a different feeling toward him. While one bore resentment, another held pity. He didn't care to match each gaze with its owner as he kept his head low and stayed in pace with the warrior beside him.

They stopped at the base of the stairs, Bruce walking and settling by one of the chairs while Jane leaned beside the elevator. Both Asgardians stood by the staircase. An awkward silence filled with unspoken tension hung limply in the air, waiting to be sliced through by the words of anyone.

Loki's eyes roved silently across the room as he searched for the Hawk. He could feel the thrum against his chest intensifying in excitement to the close proximity of its other half. His magic warmed and beat faster, sending a soothing heat across his body. However, as he searched, he did not see the archer and wondered where in the tower he could be.

The silence in the room was suddenly ripped in half as the sound of a knife slashed through the air. Loki felt a blade of wind whisper in his ear before there was a dull thud behind him. He blinked and slowly turned his head, looking directly into the mirrored blade of a knife, halfway embedded in the wall, less than a centimeter away from his face.

He swiveled his head back, searching for the source of the dagger. He saw each face, shocked either that the Hawk had thrown a knife at their newfound ally or that the Hawk had missed his target. But he was not among the faces. Loki caught Tony's eyes flick momentarily upward for a split second. However as he inclined his head to look into the rafters there was another, louder thud in front of him and he suddenly felt cold metal pressed against his skin. Grey blue eyes glared into his own; challenging and filled with long gone torment.

The trickster sucked in a breath, the knife pressing closer. No one dared speak, no one dared move. He could barely feel the archer's even breathing. He could also feel his magic desperately trying to cross the few inches of a gap between him and the agent. What he also felt was that the magic inside the knife's bearer seemed all too content to stay where it was. He didn't like that. It was _his_ magic not the Hawk's.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours, the blade slipping closer and closer to spilling a drop of blood. Finally the archer inhaled deeply, breathing out one word that cut through the silence.

"Loki."

The aforementioned arched an eyebrow, watching him curiously despite the weapon at his throat.

"Barton."

The name was said with carefully thought out flippancy, splitting the tensioned silence in the air. Clint took a step closer, his eyes narrowing and the dagger not moving. Everyone else watched closely, unable to look away from the exchange.

"We have every right to let them have you," He said, a snarl barely under his voice.

Loki tried to swallow the lump in his throat, his eyes flicking downward. "I'm aware of that," He muttered quietly.

Acting as if he hadn't spoken, Clint continued, "By all rights we _should _let them have you after what you did."

Swallowing thickly, the trickster felt the blade press deeper against his skin, but never let his eyes waver from the glare that bore into him.

Drawing in a barely shuddering breath, the pressure against his throat eased and the archer took a step back and sheathed the knife in his belt. His glare softened if only slightly as he canted his head.

"But we won't."

A breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding escaped his lips and he leaned against the wall, the blade from before against his head.

The agent twitched at Loki's relief before muttering, "They're our enemies just as much as they are yours."

"Thank you," He whispered, eyes downcast as he swallowed the pleas for his case he thought he'd have to make.

Clint smirked fleetingly at the trickster's thanks before his gaze hardened again. "That doesn't change the fact that I still want to send an arrow through your eye socket."

Twitching minutely at the thought of the rather unique revenge only the archer could deliver, the trickster nodded. "Understandable."

Another beat of silence passed before Loki met the archer's eyes again, wrapping his hand around the blade beside his head and gently dragging it out of the wall. He barely heard Tony mutter something under his breath at the gash that was left behind as he held it out to the Hawk.

"You missed," He muttered, hoping the words would not be taken in anger.

The archer only smirked back good naturedly. "If I had wanted to kill you now, you'd be dead already."

Tony clapped his hands from where he sat, jarring everyone's attention from the previous exchange and back to him-where it rightfully belonged, in his opinion. Smiling crookedly, he said, "Now that that's taken care of, can someone please give us even the slightest idea of how this is gonna work?"

Most of the eyes looked up expectantly to the trickster, waiting for him to give them the information they would need to formulate a plan as to how to go about the coming potential debacle. His eyes roved over the group of eight, each with a different expression; one with wary suspicion, another with amused curiosity. Yet, they all watched patiently for his response.

Straightening, but still leaning against the wall, Loki took a deep breath, knowing there would be much to explain in the coming minutes.

Before he spoke, however, a deafening boom resounded throughout the room from outside. The trickster jerked his head up to the skyline outside, a blue streak of light tearing across the clouds. It faded to almost nothing, before pulsing brighter than before. A black line stretched eagerly down the center, dividing the ever growing light in half.

Then, it ripped open. It grew bigger and bigger by the second, a massive bronze colored ship descending from the portal. Tendrils of blue licked at its surface, wisps that lasted only for a second before disappearing. Its purring engines echoed across the water, sending resounding sound waves into the city.

Glancing back, Loki caught the blue grey eyes that flicked over to him, noticing the spike of fear that barely spilled from the archer's veil. He also saw any who had been sitting quickly get to their feet, watching in horror as the Chitari ship hovered over the waters. The sun had set long ago, and the sharp blue of the portal stood out against the expanse of ebony above, masked by the clouds around it.

Horrible, rasping laughter filled the room, much like it had not so long ago. Tony jumped in alarm as the screens he had been sitting next to suddenly buzzed with static before flicking to the hooded and masked face of a creature of grotesque origin.

Loki felt his heart leap into his throat as everyone stared in horror at the face they wished they could not recognize. A blue haze shone around the ship outside before disappearing, The Other laughing again, his face turning to meet the trickster's eyes.

But, unlike before, the mischief maker refused to let fear take hold of him, despite how he could feel it coursing through him. He stood tall, meeting the gaze of the Chitari leader with a glare of defiance. He would not let this creature control his dreams, his fears, or his life ever again; never again.

The creature chuckled darkly, its voice rasping and gravelly, "You've been missed, Asgardian." The words were greeted with a screech of approval from somewhere behind him, horrible and grating. "It's time for you to come home."

He felt Thor shift anxiously beside him at the mention of 'home', saw how his eyes narrowed dangerously. Before the warrior could speak, however, Loki responded, "The day I call that pit 'home' is the day Jotunheim melts."

It laughed again, but as if its mood suddenly sobered, the laugh died away as quick as it came. Its next words came harder, with a tone only the vengeful could obtain.

"I've asked you once, and I will ask you again, trickster. How much blood are you willing to spill for your own sake?" It smirked horribly, or maybe it didn't. With the mask it was hard to tell. "One life? Two? How many have to die before you let the inevitable occur?" It spat.

"Nothing is inevitable," Steve said suddenly, crossing his arms and challenging the creature on the screen.

Chuckling again, The Other looked back to Loki, "You have an hour before we start spilling blood. If you are not on the ship within that time span then this pathetic realm will burn."

Then he was gone. The screen buzzed again with static before flicking off into inky blackness. The trickster slowly lifted a hand to his chest, noticing the vibrant thrum against it, still as strong as ever. The warmth stilled his shaking hands and calmed his shuddering breath.

The silence was nearly deafening, interrupted only as a clock ticked the seconds away. Soon the minutes would slip through their fingers and their hour would end. The time they thought they had was no more. The countdown was beginning and the end of its tic held dangers no normal person would willingly traverse.

But the Avengers were far from normal.

"One hour," Clint muttered, his eyes flitting to Loki's. "We've got one hour."

Loki nodded numbly, his mind already assessing every piece of knowledge he had on the Chitari, formulating and planning meticulously in a similar manner to his pranks back on Asgard. But this was no trick and there was far less time to prepare. Things would need to be glanced over, considered only in the heat of the moment. Those things could present dangerous errors in the plan, but they were the cost for having a plan at all.

"So…you got a plan, Lokes?" Tony asked impatiently, noticing the distance the trickster's eyes had taken.

He blinked, shifting his eyes to the genius. Then, he allowed himself a smirk as his mind whirred and his magic thrummed excitedly.

"Yeah," He said casually, eyes roving over them quickly, "We're gonna play a game."

"A game?" Pepper asked incredulously.

"A mind game," Loki reaffirmed.

The CEO almost smirked, her eyes twitching to the two assassins. "I know two people in here who are great at those."

Natasha straightened. "Us?"

She nodded in confirmation, glancing back to the mischief maker. Loki met her eyes, lifting a hand to his mouth as he thought. Slowly he walked over to the coffee table, beckoning the others to follow. As everyone gathered around, he stood in front of it.

"Stark? Can you bring up a three dimensional model of the ship?"

Tony blinked for a second, wondering where the trickster had learned those words before responding. "Yeah, I'll need to scan it first, though. Give me a second."

As the genius leaned over the computerized table and began typing away, Loki's eyes roved over the group. They were following him, looking to him for leadership. In a twisted way, they knelt to him. But it felt nothing like it did in Germany. They knelt in respect, they allowed him to lead. The others had knelt in fear, in forced subjugation. This was different. This felt different. It felt...better. It felt like nothing in Germany, for in Germany he held fear himself. Now, that fear was gone, at least momentarily. They looked to him to lead in this twisted game, just as Thor had looked to him for tactics of victory in the midst of battle.

That's all this was. It was a battle. It was a battle that needed to be won. And it would be won, he would not allow for anything else.

"Got it." Tony's voice jarred him from his musings and he looked up, a replica of the ship outside hovering over the table.

Smirking, Loki leaned closer to the hologram. Flicking through it, he began to speak.

"This is where the plane will have to land…"

* * *

**I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. C: **

**Thanks for reading, everyone! Reviewz and Conztructive Criticimz are appreciated~**


	20. Assets

**Hello again. :) Sorry the time between chapters has been steadily increasing, but I'm steadily getting nearer to the chapters I haven't written yet and I'm trying to finish those in between updates. I also have alot of schoolwork that's been attacking me. Sorry for the wait guys.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

The shadows of night's ebony waned on nearly an hour after the Chitari ship had descended from the portal. In that timeframe, Tony insisted to Fury that SHEILD should not get involved, knowing full well that their intervention could mean disaster. Reluctantly, the director had agreed and had gone to do damage control in the city,

Luckily for them, the portal and ship had been shrouded in a cover of cloud, high enough for most of New York not to penetrate it and low enough for anyone in the higher end of Avengers Tower to see it. This meant the people hadn't panicked…yet.

Clint shifted in his seat, noticing the way his partner's wary gaze constantly shifted between the Asgardian on the other side of the quinjet and her wrist, now adorned with a thin metal bracelet, a dull green circle in its center. The archer glanced at his own wrist, the same device strapped onto it, though his circle had a purple hue.

His eyes did not miss the nervous way Loki continuously twisted his fingers, a chain hanging from two green glowing shackles around his wrists clacking each time he twitched enough. The chain looked strong, but was in reality as flimsy as a twig. The shackles too, though appearing to suppress his magic, did not do as such. There was an odd glint in his eyes, of fleeting mischief shrouded by terror.

Steve looked back from where he piloted the quinjet, the tense silence interrupted only by the dull thrum of the engine as it cruised across the sky and toward the bronze ship hovering ever closer with each second.

"You guys sure about this?"

The archer smirked. "Not in the slightest."

Natasha looked up from where she had been playing with the metal around her wrist. She threw her partner a wry grin that quickly died when her eyes met Loki's. The trickster quickly lowered his eyes, swallowing thickly. She watched him carefully for a moment; the twitching, the constant moving, his eyes roving across the ground.

She knew these actions. She knew what they meant. She knew the Asgardian across from her was absolutely terrified of what was about to transpire. Honestly, she couldn't blame him. Though she still harbored mistrust toward the trickster, it had mellowed somewhat after their plan had been discussed, revised, and ultimately put into action.

Steve shifted forward in the pilot's seat, narrowing his eyes as the landing point Loki had indicated came into view. The three in the back straightened, watching the window above.

"Hawk, Widow," Loki said, managing to keep his nerves from slipping into his speech. The two swiveled toward him. "I have to do it now."

Throwing his partner an assuring glance, Clint held out his hand, the purple circle on the wristband held upright. The trickster leaned forward, the chain jangling, and waved a hand over the metal. Barely perceptible tendrils of green followed the movement as the circle began to glow brighter, pulsing with its purple hue.

Nodding to the lithe spy beside him, Natasha held out her own hand and Loki repeated the process, her own wristband glowing with a much brighter green than before.

"Alright, guys," Steve called back, "I'm gonna try and land this thing. You might want to brace yourselves."

Both agents leaned back into their seats, gripping the sides. Watching them both carefully, Loki mimicked them, fingers nervously twitching around the seat. Clint smirked at him, giving him a thumbs up. The trickster narrowed his eyes at the gesture, eyeing him for a moment, before attempting to return it.

The quinjet slammed roughly against the surface of the ship, grinding against the slick surface and desperately trying to find purchase. Steve grunted from in front, before the plane finally slid to a stop a goo few yards from the opening Loki had indicated from before.

The soldier unhooked himself and helped the trickster up even as the two agents pushed themselves up. Loki nodded to them and, with a bit of apprehension, they each slid the dial on the side of the metal wristband. Each glow brightened, sliding up their arms until it completely shrouded them. Natasha's breath hitched in surprise, before she opened her eyes again.

* * *

_The hologram of the ship continued to rotate rhythmically, every path Loki could remember mapped out. The aforementioned shot a glance to the archer who hovered nearby, staring at the blue tinted projection. He could tell the Hawk had memorized the entire layout within the three minutes it had been completed. _

_"I get how _you_ get in," the agent muttered, catching the other's attention. "But how do _we_ get in?" He asked, indicating to him and his partner who stood beside him. _

_Loki leaned back for a moment, his mind excitedly racing with possibilities, every single one requiring a range of magical energy he did not have. He stopped the race of ideas and focused on one. Mulling over its possibilities, he decide this one was possible, but could only be done on a small scale. He would need some way of amplifying the effects…_

_"Stark?" He asked quietly. The genius jerked his head up from where he had been furiously typing away, trying to hack into the Chitari's computers with no success. "Do you have some sort of energy amplifier?"_

_Blinking in confusion before his mind pulled itself back to the present, Tony bit his lip, thinking to the mounds of random machinery lying about his lab and work stations. Something in his eye lit up and he jumped up. "I might have something," He called back as her tore down the stairs. _

_"Brother?" Thor said, noticing the twitch of Loki's mouth at the term, but pleased at the lack of instant denial. "What are you planning?"_

_The trickster only smirked back. "A game, Thor. A game."_

* * *

Loki sighed in relief as the glow faded and Clint and Natasha were nowhere to be seen. He faintly heard a gasp from where the spy had once been standing.

"That's just weird," Steve muttered absentmindedly.

"I agree," Clint's voice echoed, as if it were far away, but still sounding very close. There was a green shimmer from where the archer had been standing.

Biting his lip, Loki said, "I don't know how long the amplifiers will be able to hold up the spell. We must hasten."

With his heart hammering inside his chest, the ramp slid downward and Steve roughly, but reluctantly, grabbed Loki's arm and led him down the ramp. He sensed the other two presences following, slowly, stealthily, just as a wolf its prey. The wind whipped around his face and he shut his eyes as its cold bite ripped at his skin. Dark clouds loomed around the ship, continuing to graciously veil its presence.

A panel a few feet in front of them hissed and slid downward, three Chitari soldiers marching out with guns drawn. Loki felt Steve shift uneasily beside him. He knew the super soldier didn't want to do this, but it was for the best.

* * *

_"Why do I have to be the one who gives you to them?" Steve asked in exasperation. The trickster could tell the soldier wanted nothing to do with this, not after how docile and calm he had been acting around them for the last week or so. _

_Loki sighed, running a hand across his forehead before meeting the man's eyes. "Because if none of this goes as planned, you can at least tell your population Captain America was the one who delivered the world conqueror to his doom."_

_Steve visibly deflated at the words. He knew the soldier didn't want to do it, didn't want to inadvertently give Loki up to the Chitari to be tortured and killed. But at the same time, the soldier saw the reason behind his words and nodded his head numbly. _

* * *

The middle Chitari soldier lowered his gun and growled something indecipherable. Steve arched and eyebrow, but heard the trickster in his grip barely whisper something under his breath.

"Give me to him."

Steve, swallowing every instinct within him to keep anyone away from the vile creatures in front of him, pushed Loki forward and into the cruel hold of the Chitari. He watched numbly as they dragged him harshly down the opening and into the ship. He barely caught sight of two shimmers of light disappear behind them. He turned back to the quinjet and walked back up the ramp, sliding it back into place.

Dragging in a shaky breath, he looked up into the sky beyond, silently praying that this would all work.

* * *

_"Stark, if you don't tell me what you are doing this instant, I will personally send that Chitari ship to the depths of the ocean with a nuclear missile."_

_Tony glared up at the man on the screen as he tossed bits of metal and piping aside, searching for the amplifiers needed for their plan to work. _

_"Nick, I can guarantee the instant SHIELD gets involved that the world will burn," he ground out irritably. He inspected a small metal ring before throwing it behind him haphazardly. "That ship out there is here for Loki and Loki alone. It'll do whatever it needs to do to accomplish that goal."_

_"Then we'll get rid of it," The director replied firmly. "Or better yet, give them Loki and be done with it."_

_The genius shook his head in exasperation. "You don't get it do you? There's more of them out there, and even if we do give them Loki, what's to stop them from returning and destroying the world?"_

_A silence began to reign in the room as Tony's words hung dangerously in the air, their meaning driving deep into the man on the screen. _

_"We have to end this, Jack Sparrow," The billionaire asserted. "If we don't they'll just come back."_

_Fury looked up hesitantly. "I'm putting a lot of faith in you. If this doesn't work…"_

_"It will," Tony said quickly, sifting through a bin he'd pulled from underneath a table. _

_The director sighed and watched the genius bustle around in the lab before triumphantly pulling out five glowing circles out of a box shoved haphazardly on a shelf. _

_"Stark? What is that? What are you doing?"_

_Tony fingered the circles before raising his eyes to the screens. "We're playing with fire, director." And with a click the screen returned to static. _

* * *

They dragged him roughly through the shadowy corridors of the ship. Strange, unsymmetrical arches lined the walls, colored with the same dusty bronze that adorned the outside of the ship. It looked old and worn, but still shined underneath the grime. Loki had to bite his lip each time they 'accidently' rammed him with their gun, or when a 'stray' blade cut across his arm. He refused to give them the satisfaction of his pain. He would not let them control him. Never again.

He barely felt two presences silently shadowing them as the corridor leveled out and expanded into several different paths. He saw a barely perceptible shimmer of green around one of the doorways to his right, but made no notion he had seen it. The three Chitari around him pushed him toward the center hallway, hissing at each other in their guttural language.

Swallowing thickly in concealed fear, he walked forward. He wouldn't let them control him, not even in this accord. He walked willingly. They couldn't force him to do anything.

Each step drew him closer to the Other. Each step brought him closer to the torture and pain the Chitari had promised him. Each step took him farther and farther away from a safety he hadn't known he'd felt in Asgard and Avengers Tower.

He was alone now. There was no one to protect him. He had been left to fend for himself, but this time, this time, he did it of his own will. No one had abandoned him purposefully. He'd abandoned himself. He hadn't told them of what he planned in case the initial plot failed. They didn't need to know. It was best if they didn't know.

Because he knew they would do everything in their power to stop him if they knew. And if they did, it would only get them killed. He had enough blood on his hands, spilling more would only make it worse.

If any blood would spill this day, it would be either the Chitari's or his. He could only hope it was the former rather than the latter.

* * *

_"And if this doesn't work?" Bruce asked tentatively, watching the marked hologram continue to spin slowly. _

_Loki inhaled deeply, eyes twitching nervously about the room at the question. _

_"Then I'll go to plan B."_

_Tony arched a curious eyebrow. "Plan B?"_

_The trickster waved a hand in faked dismissal. "Just, get everyone out and away. I'll make sure the Chitari do not return."_

_His words held an underlying meaning that hardly anyone seemed to catch onto. Only Jane, secluded from the group and watching the proceedings with a curious eye seemed to latch onto the finality of the backup plan. But she said nothing as they continued to discuss their plot, a plot filled with mind games and trickery. _

_It was undeniably and most characteristic of the mischief maker that threaded it together. From what she could hear, it sounded very much like he had organized similar feats before. She nudged the Asgardian beside her, jarring him from his immersion in the plans unfolding before them. _

_"Has he done this sort of thing before?" She whispered quietly. _

_Thor nodded, smiling at her. "Aye, Loki's plans have often been the deciding factor between victory and defeat in many a battle before."_

_Jane furrowed her brow. "How many times has he been told that?"_

_The warrior blinked in confusion, eyes shifting upward in thought. "I cannot recall the last time he was complimented in his strategic expertise, dear Jane."_

_The astrophysicist rubbed her chin thoughtfully as she pondered her friend's words. No wonder the younger Asgardian had felt neglected. His brother had been praised in victory when it was the trickster himself that had ensured their success. _

_She silently wondered how many other areas he had been rejected and scorned, left to believe he would never be good enough to reach the standards set by his older brother. _

* * *

The hallway's rusty bronze arches grew larger, stretching over a large room, its floor a mirrored black surface of unknown origin. A large, tinted window stretched across the front of the room, technology similar to Midgard's computers lined the walls. They beeped and chirped every now and again with flashing colors, several Chitari-smaller and less adequate for battle-hovered over the screens.

His boots clicked against the hard floor underneath him, a hooded creature turning to face him from where he stood on the raised platform. He felt his breath shudder at the sight of the Other, a face he wished he would never see again for the rest of his days.

"We missed you_,_" It hissed with a grin. The Chitari beside him screeched in approval and he felt his heart flutter and grow more rapid alongside the thrum of his magic.

The Other stepped down and towards Loki, his masked grin never ceasing. The trickster made no effort to display the fear that coursed through his body. He would not let this creature have the pleasure.

"Welcome home, my _prince._"

* * *

**I'm still not quite sure what I'm doing. C: **

**Haha, anyway, thanks for reading! As for the 19 chapters before, reviews and constructive criticisms are appreciated! **


	21. Two Fold

**As a forewarning: I have never read the comics, nor due I fully understand the Chitari as a species. So I made some stuff up and rolled with it. Hope you guys enjoy! C:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

The sun had long since set on the realm of Asgard, and night's ebony now reigned the skies, interrupted only by the stars and planets afar. Even in the darkness, the glowing rainbows of the Bifrost Bridge illuminated the waters below as well as the observatory, colors glinting off the golden sphere.

Clacking hooves echoed against the crashing waves, slowing as they neared the building. Heimdall, ever vigilant in his watch of the realms, remained at his post before the gate to the realms. The horse drew to a stop before him and a woman slid off the saddle, walking regally toward the gatekeeper.

"You wished to see me, my old friend?" Frigga asked with a smile as she stopped in front him.

Heimdall nodded. "Trouble brews on Midgard."

The queen's eyes narrowed minutely as her smile fell. "Are my sons alright?"

The gatekeeper did not speak and Frigga shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. New worry coursed through her mind and she felt her heart beat grow quicker. A million thoughts and possibilities swept through her, but she managed to brush them away, instead choosing to scrutinize the Asgardian before her.

"What has happened on Midgard?" She asserted, forcing calm.

Eyes unblinking, Heimdall responded, "The Chitari seek your younger son in vengeance. I fear there is not much we can do."

Her hands flew to her mouth and she sucked in a breath, willing away the horrid memories that resurfaced and blinking away unshed tears.

"No…" She whispered. "Surely, we can do something. We can gather…we can gather the army..and…"

"I'm sorry, my queen, but if you believe the people of Asgard will rally to save him, you are sorely mistaken."

"There must be something," She muttered hoarsely, pacing across the bridge, trails of color following her steps.

"Loki is intelligent, my queen. Even now, he plots to trick the creatures and sever their connections with the realms," The gatekeeper said stoically.

Frigga shook her head. "I fear he will not succeed. The Chitari are not led by a fool."

Heimdall canted his head slightly. "With all due respect, how would you be aware of this, my queen?"

She stopped, stiffening at his question and realizing she had let slip that which she did not wish to reveal. She inhaled sharply and turned back to her horse, settling back into the saddle.

"Thank you for the information, Heimdall. I'm sorry, but I must speak with Odin immediately," She said curtly, before digging her heels into the horse's side. The animal tore across the rainbow bridge. The movement sent cascades of color across the waters below, lighting the way before them.

Frigga did not think about the horse's gallop as she rode on. Her mind was on other things, other troubles.

Loki, her son, her dear, beloved son, was chased and hounded by the Chitari at this very second. She couldn't help but wonder how long they had pursued him, how long they had yearned for his blood. Had it been only since the battle those six months ago, or had they sought out the trickster for far longer, hungering for the opportunity to torture him; in both mind and body?

She knew her son had not attempted to conquer Midgard of his own will. She knew the eyes of the controlled, of those who had had their minds ripped asunder and replaced with the will of another. She had seen it once before, but had not recognized it. For how many years after had she wished she'd seen it sooner? How long had she wished she could change that past; that things could've been so different?

Maybe then, she would not have cried herself to sleep all those nights ago, nor would her younger son suffer under such atrocities. The Chitari would not be merciful to him if he failed in his trickery. He had done more than fail them. He had unwittingly deceived them and outsmarted them, and Midgard was not where he had done so.

Memories flitted through her mind; memories of long lost days and long gone life. Tears slipped past her eyelids as her horse galloped faster and faster toward the palace. She shook her head. Now was not the time to mourn that which was already gone. Now was the time to try to save that which hung so precariously on the edge of the abyss of death.

As the queen dismounted her horse and tore up the steps to the palace, heading straight for Odin's throne, she pushed all mourning away.

Her son needed her, and she would do all in her power to aid him.

* * *

The ventilation shafts in the Chitari ship were strange and unlike the ones on the Helicarrier that Clint was so used to. Instead of being rectangular, they were curved, similar to the corridors below, but much smaller. They had the same old bronze arches and slick black floor. The main differences were the size and the occasional grate against the wall.

The archer also quickly realized it was scalding hot inside them, a fact he had graciously been pre-warned of by Loki. Apparently the Chitari hated the cold and had a higher tolerance for heat than most creatures. However, this also meant their tolerance for cold was of a rather low scale.

A fact the two assassins were all too willing to exploit.

As they reached a part of the shafts where it branched off into two directions, Clint signaled to his partner. They each took separate routes. Natasha went right, toward the direction of the main computer terminal, and Clint headed left and downward, aiming for the heating system.

With each step he could feel the temperature increase. He finally came to the point where he could no longer touch the walls unless he wanted to scald himself. The archer could vaguely see the heat emanating from the walls and wiped sweat from his own brow, his arm flickering. He sighed in relief as he spotted a grate a few feet ahead of him.

Pulling an arrow out of his quiver, Clint used the shaft to slide the grate away from the wall. Seeing and hearing no Chitari below, he jumped out of the hole and landed in a crouch. He eyed the amplifier carefully for a second, watching the purple glow that only he could see. With a moment's trepidation he flicked his wrist, sending a jolt of warmth down his arm. The warmth encompassed his entire hand, leaving it surrounded in a purple glow.

* * *

_"Why do we need to take the vents if we have the invisibility spell?" Natasha asked warily, watching the trickster across the table. The hologram now had two green lines that followed a path through the ventilation system above. _

_Loki flicked his eyes to her. "For one, the spell will last longer if it doesn't detect anything to hide you from and for another, I am very well aware Barton is rather fond of ventilation systems," He said with an indifferent glare aimed at the archer._

_Clint smirked. "You only lost me for an hour."_

_"I still haven't figured out how you even got up there."_

_"Can we talk about this later?" Steve interrupted, a hand on his forehead._

_"Of course," The trickster replied with a smirk. He grimaced when he glanced at the clock and turned to the one who had previously spoken. "Rogers? Go prepare the plane, there's something I need to show Barton before we can start our game."_

_Steve arched an eyebrow, but obeyed nonetheless, running out to the landing pad below the balcony. Clint walked over to where Loki kneeled, his partner following close behind. _

_"What is it?"_

_Loki eyed the archer for a moment before speaking. "Can you feel my magic?"_

_Clint blinked, "That warm humming thing in my chest?"_

_"Yes, that," Loki sighed with an eye roll. "Can you channel it?"_

_"Can I what?"_

_Resisting the urge to slam his head into a wall, the trickster stood up. "Let me see your hand."_

_With a confused, yet wary look, the archer slowly extended his arm, raising his palm up to the Asgardian in front of him. Natasha stood behind, watching curiously with an air of suspicion. _

_The trickster raised his own arm. "You only have enough magic to encase your hand, so I need you to mimic what I do," he said, flicking his wrist and enveloping it in a green glow. _

_Nodding slowly, Clint copied the movement, smiling as his hand was sheathed in purple. He noted silently the annoyed look that crossed Loki's face when he saw the color, but said nothing of it. Instead, he moved his hand carefully, watching as the glow moved to encompass it with each change. _

_"What is it?" He asked, lifting a curious eye to the trickster. _

_Loki snapped his hand down and the glow around it dispersed. "It's a protection spell. It's the second thing I learned after healing."_

_Clint looked up, snapping his hand just as Loki had before, his own purple glow scattering. "So…the magic inside me…"_

_"Is relearning everything to accommodate its new host," Loki finished with a smirk, though there was a twinge of irritation in his tone. _

_Natasha's gaze twitched up to Loki's. "So, that's why Clint's injuries were healed so fast?"_

_"That would be it, yes."_

_"Guys!" Steve's voice jarred them from their conversation. "Plane's ready and we've only got a few more minutes."_

_The archer glanced at Loki, catching a faint twitch of fear before it was veiled and hidden behind a mask of mischief. With a smirk, the trickster walked toward the balcony. "Let the game begin."_

* * *

Clint carefully grabbed the vent cover, finding the searing heat it gave off didn't even warm his hand underneath the protective glow that encompassed it. With more confidence in the spell Loki had shown him, the archer pushed the grate back into its place and flicked his wrist, the glow vanishing.

Silently thanking Loki for both the invisibility spell embedded in the amplifier as well as the one he had just utilized, Clint crept along the wall, following its path downward. His movements were slower than he would've liked, but the faster he moved or the more deliberately he walked, the easier it was for the amplifier to glitch for a split second. A simple glitch could send the spell into oblivion and compromise the entirety of his mission. So, checking his patience learned so long ago, he slid silently against the wall and toward the metal door at the end of the hall.

His breath hitched and he froze in place as the door slid open and a disgruntled Chitari soldier ambled out, waving its gun haphazardly. As the metal contraption began to ease closed, Clint darted forward, his form shimmering. His hand caught the edge and he stilled, hoping he had not been seen. When nothing else moved, he carefully pushed the door back open enough for him to slip through.

Once inside, he blinked for a moment at the large, dome like room. In the center, an enormous, glowing red machine stood, several pipes and vents feeding from it and into the outlying shafts that ran through the entire ship. Taking a quick survey of the Chitari inside, the archer took a silent breath of ease at the small amount of the creatures that ran the machine.

Walking silently against the metal grating below his feet, Clint slinked closer to the metal. He could feel the heat grow with every step he took, but pressed on. He dropped his hand to his side and gripped a metal canister positioned tightly against his belt. It was cold to the touch and felt good against the smoldering heat emanating from the machine.

Moving against the machine now, Clint analyzed its exterior closer, searching for the grate he knew was there. His eye caught a flare of light to his left and he crept closer to it. His form shimmered again, despite his slow movements. Glancing down, he noticed the dimness of the purple circle on the amplifier, and hurried his approach.

As he reached the grate, the archer flicked his wrist again and it was enveloped in the same glow as before. Carefully, he pushed it aside until the opening was roughly half a foot. Not assimilating the glow, he shifted his hands, passing the cold canister to the one encompassed in purple. Flicking the top open, a cloud of what looked like steam began to pour out.

Clint threw the metal container unceremoniously into the machine just as the lights blinked out, shrouding the entire room in darkness. The furnace whirred to a stop and he smirked upward, flicking his wrist again. The Chitari in the room grunted to each other in confusion, searching for the reason for the blackout. In their bewilderment, they did not notice the temperature slowly decrease, nor did they notice how the machine did not return to its humming.

What they did notice, was the sound of the door slamming closed. One screeched to the other and the majority of them darted out of the room and into the corridor, chasing that which they could not see. But one stayed behind, not willingly, of course.

He did not follow, because he was dead; frozen to the ground by an ever increasing cluster of ice crystals.

* * *

_"Their heating systems are like giant amplifiers," Loki explained as he handed the canister to the archer. _

_Clint arched an eyebrow inquisitively as they approached the jet. "Meaning?"_

_"Meaning, that whatever is put in is enhanced and amplified a thousand fold before being dispersed throughout the ship."_

_"So," Natasha started from behind them, "All they need is a small flame to heat an entire ship?"_

_The trickster nodded. "Yes, and if we put something else inside; something colder…,"He trailed off with a dark smirk._

_The sniper mimicked the movement with a twitch. "Sounds like fun."_

* * *

Natasha pressed against the grate above the enormous computer terminal, eyes roving over everything within the room and counting the creatures inside. She fingered the USB drive in her hand, giving the tiny device a glance. If Tony didn't do his work, she was in deep trouble. They all would be.

Taking a calming breath, the lithe spy slipped the grating silently off and slid it into the vent. Nothing below seemed to notice the movement and she mentally sighed in relief. Tightening her hand around the metal drive, she carefully eased out of the hole, thankful for the amplifier around her wrist. Soundlessly landing on the slick, ebony floor below, Natasha slowly and stealthily crept toward the computer.

She continually glanced around, sure to make her movements careful lest the spell slip and her position revealed. None of the Chitari had noticed her. Not yet.

Once at the computer, she searched for anything that resembled a USB port, fairly certain none would be found. When she did not see the port, she hissed at herself, looking for something else that would work. Finding nothing, Natasha dug through one of her pockets, fishing out a small cord with a strange outlet hooked on one end and a USB port on the other.

Scanning the expansive terminal again, she shoved the one end of the cord into the first port it would fit into while simultaneously jamming the USB into its respective port on the other end. Stray sparks lit up around the cord, but otherwise nothing occurred.

A Chitari looked up at the sound of the sparks and glanced around. The spy froze, standing stock still as the creature looked directly at her, but through her at the same time. It grunted, before turning back to its work.

Managing to keep herself from exhaling in relief, Natasha turned back to the terminal, setting her fingers against the glowing screen beside the port. She watched it eagerly, waiting for what had to happen for them to succeed.

Soon enough, the blue haze of the screen flitted away and was replaced with flashing numbers and letters that streaked by too fast for her to comprehend. Her job complete, Natasha slowly edged closer to the exit, knowing what was soon to become of the vents she had just traversed.

Her form shimmered and the amplifier buzzed against her arm, sending a jolt of anxiety through her veins. There was a growl behind her and she whirled around to meet it. Her movement only sent the fading to fail further and the green circle to diminish more. The Chitari soldier screeched and charged toward her, its gun in its hand.

The lights above suddenly cut out, plunging the entire room into ebony. Natasha quickly took advantage of the situation, scrambling out of the room and through the exit before any of the Chitari could see her escape.

Once the door was out of sight, she slowed her dash, her form flickering warningly. Sending an annoyed glance at the dimming amplifier, the spy crept along the corridors of the ship, searching for the rendezvous point at which she was to meet Clint. Without the lights, the halls were darker, casting eerie shadows across the floor, interrupted only by dim, glowing bulbs beside the bases of the arches that lined the walls.

She shivered, glancing up at a vent. A cloud of cold seeped out of the grate, everything it touched slowly freezing. Hastening at the sight, Natasha peered around the corner. Deeming the following hallway safe, she pressed on, slowly but surely making her way downwards.

The archer turned around the corner, slamming himself against the wall and willing his heart to slow from the excitement. The amplifier buzzed in annoyance and he hissed under his breath as his form faded in time with the slowing pulse of the circle. Hearing the thump of the Chitari, he bit his lip, holding his breath and willing the amplifier to hold out just a bit longer.

The creatures walked by at an agonizingly slow speed, their weapons coming within inches of him multiple times. One of them sniffed the air, a growl growing in the back of his throat. Clint stiffened as it drew closer to him. Another growled louder in response, beckoning the other to follow. With a snort, it followed and they moved on, passing from the corridor into another door at the opposite end.

As their steps faded, he allowed himself to breathe again, straightening from where he had pressed himself into the wall. Glancing around him, Clint slowly began to traverse the ship once more, smirking at the tendrils of white that slowly flowed out of the vents from where he had come. The air behind him grew colder and the wisps began to overcome the floor. Quickening his steps, the marksman pushed against a corner, peering around the edge. Finding nothing of danger, he shuffled into the next corridor, slowly making his way downward.

The faintest sound of footsteps drifted to his ears and he immediately halted, eyeing the corridor with a scrutinizing eye. The noise continued, unheard had his ears not been so acute. He narrowed at his eyes as he saw something shimmer, the dim light from below bending at an odd angle.

Something warm suddenly pressed against him and he flinched back, causing his form to fade and the amplifier to buzz in annoyance. To his surprise, he barely heard the buzz of another amplifier and another form shimmered in front of him, the spell blinking out of existence around a red haired woman.

Natasha blinked in confusion before sighing in relief at the sight of her comrade. The archer glanced down at his arm, realizing it had rematerialized and the purple glow on the amplifier had diminished completely.

"Not exactly where we agreed to meet," The spy muttered wryly as she surveyed the corridor.

Clint smirked. "Close enough."

His partner smiled in good natured mirth. "Now?"

Taking a quick look around the hallway, the sniper turned around, motioning for her to follow. With careful steps, they tread across the ebony floor, slowly edging away from the freezing vents and the core of the ship that emanated the icy death. Their shrouds gone and amplifiers useless, they moved faster and swifter through the maze of the ship, remaining hidden from the prying eyes of the Chitari that ambled the passages.

After a few minutes the archer stopped suddenly in the center of the corridor, eyes narrowed and twitching about. Natasha stood behind him, watching for a second before he spoke.

"Do you hear that?" He whispered.

Natasha blinked, straining her ears, but heard nothing. "Hear what?" She asked back in confusion.

Clint didn't respond, instead turning his head slowly as if to try and hear the sound better. Something in his eyes clicked and he darted to her side. Grabbing her hand, he dragged her to the floor just as a thunderous boom resounded throughout the ship, sending the entire corridor rumbling. Green and white tendrils of energy surged past them, ripping through the untouched wall before dispersing.

The spy looked up at her partner from where she lay pressed against the floor and inhaled sharply. His blue grey eyes shone back with the same question and they both simultaneously scrambled to their feet. With a hesitant glance to the ebony door in front of them, the two assassins each set a hand on the entrance and pushed it aside.

Little did they know what awaited them behind that door.

* * *

**Do amplifiers work that way?**

**Probably not.**

**But this is scifi,**

**So I do what I want. C:**

**Thanks for reading! Thy reviews and criticisms of the constructive variety doth remain highly appreciated~**


	22. Numbers and Magic

**Woosh! A new chapter appeared! Enjoy, guys~**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Frigga threw aside the door to her husband's chambers with little warning, startling the king from where he stood at the balcony. Wasting no time, she hurried to his side, grasping his hand with pleading in her eyes.

Odin eyed his wife closely. "What concerns you, my love?"

The queen inhaled sharply. "Our son has once again found himself in trouble's favor."

Realization flickered across the king's eye, but was quickly hidden and replaced with annoyance. His younger had found himself flirting with trouble much too often for his liking. "What has Loki gotten himself into now?"

Swallowing thickly and eyes darting over the setting ebony that had settled over Asgard, Frigga looked up into her husband's eye. "The Chitari have returned for him."

Odin said nothing, eye shifting to look out over the city. He did not speak. He did not have to in order to convey what he clearly thought of the predicament. Silence ticked on between them, neither speaking as her words hung limply in the air.

Realizing he was not going to respond, Frigga pushed on, "There must be something we can do to aid him!"

"He can take care of himself," the king insisted with a grunt.

Frigga let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through her hair. "Surely you are not that blind!"

"Blind to what, my dear?" He asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Everything!" She nearly shouted, catching herself barely before she spoke. She could hear her breathing quicken as her eyes burned with tears. "How could you not see it?"

The king blinked in confusion, turning away from the balcony and towards his wife. He set a hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her and she visibly relaxed somewhat under his hand. Caressing her cheek he asked slowly. "What did I not see?"

Her breath shuddered and she took a moment to calm her voice to keep it from shaking. "The eyes of the controlled, my love."

Odin said nothing, though bewilderment danced in his eye, giving away what he thought of her words. Frigga gripped his hand tightly, refusing to let more tears fall. All these years she had thought she had imagined it; thought she'd imagined that strange glint or that odd shine in her son's eyes. It was only a few months ago had she realized what it had truly been; what had truly occurred all those years ago.

"I've seen it before," She whispered hoarsely. "I saw it in Loki's eyes…and I saw it in Baldr's."

Her words were confidant and not a shred of doubt was in her voice. There was no uncertainty in her revelation. What she had seen rang true and the king was fully aware of it. He swallowed thickly, his gaze never straying from her pleading eyes.

"What are you saying?" He asked slowly, hand remaining on her shoulder.

Frigga smiled sadly. "Loki is not the first Asgardian to have fallen victim to the Chitari's control…"

She swallowed thickly. Memories of laughter and singing danced before her mind. Her three sweet little boys played and fought together once as brothers. When had that changed? When had Baldr's eyes taken on that odd sparkle; that foreign glisten? When had he gone from an innocent child to a plotting killer? When had that laughter and singing ended?

Blinking in confusion, Odin shifted his hand, "I do not understand what you mean."

Moving out from under his hand, Frigga leaned against the balcony, watching the stars above. Her hand still in her husband's, she muttered quietly, "Do you remember that day? The day Loki killed Baldr?"

Darkness shifted to the edges of Odin's eye. "All too well."

With a slight scowl, she continued, "He knew something we did not. It was because of that information did Thor release him from under the snake without your consent."

Odin remained quiet as she regaled what had occurred so many years ago; a memory he had had tried multiple times to suppress into the depths of his mind.

Looking up into his gaze, she asked, "Why did you never ask?"

"About what?" He inquired unconcernedly.

Realization slipping through her eyes, Frigga went on, "You sent Loki to the snake pit, but when Thor released him, you made no effort to reprimand him." She exhaled slowly, eyes roving over the sky. "You did not even ask his reasoning behind releasing his brother…"

"I trusted him in his decision."

"Do not think me a fool. We both know Thor is not known for his thought processes," She scolded. "Why did you let Loki be released without your consent?"

Odin looked deep into her eyes with a sigh, but did not say anything. "This is all beside the point," he muttered.

"I think this is exceptionally relevant," the queen insisted.

"Controlled or not, Loki must face the consequences of his actions," He said darkly. "I will not aid him in something he put himself into."

Frigga seethed under her skin, but made no outward show of her anger. Inhaling deeply and looking back into their chambers she spoke, emphasizing his name, "And how exactly did he get to that point, _Odin?_"

Silence beat on between them. They both knew the answer. He had fallen. But he had not simply fallen by the slip of the hand or accidental trip. He had chosen to fall. He had chosen to die.

That choice had not been made on the spot. The rejection felt on that bridge had not been the first. It took more than a day to rip a family apart and theirs had slowly deteriorated for centuries. Baldr's death may not have been the start of it, but it had been a cataclysmic event leading to separation for one son and elevation for the other.

Loki had been resilient in his fight to please his father. He was not one to give up so easily. It had taken far longer than a day to break him; for him to come to the point he did on the bridge.

"There must be something we can do to help him," She whispered with force in her words. "Odin, _please."_

But Odin's eye was not on her. It had wandered from the sky outside to the bed in their chambers. More specifically it had wandered to the spear that was laid carefully across the bed sheets, its gold glinting in the rising moonlight. Blinking, Frigga followed his gaze until both were looking at his spear; at Gungnir.

Both of them saw the flair of green that shimmered across its surface.

* * *

The room in Avengers Tower was shrouded in darkness, not due to the night outside, but because of the metal plating that had slid down over every window. The entire room had become a giant holographic projector, hovering projections scattered about. One flat screen like hologram stretched nearly from the floor to the ceiling. This was the hologram that Tony Stark stood in front of, arms crossed and brow creased in concentration.

Series of numbers continuously circulated and flashed on one side of the screen. Several blank squares hovered elsewhere on the plane of blue. A translucent keyboard floated between him and the screen, awaiting its use.

As much as he wanted to burst into the sky, clad in his armor, and destroy the Chitari ship in a cataclysmic explosion of fire and sulfur, Tony knew that route was not the wisest choice. This situation was precarious and his skills in energy repulsors were not what they needed for this plan.

What they really needed was his hacking expertise.

Footsteps quietly led up to behind him, and he glanced back at his CEO. Pepper's eyes roved over and around all the holograms that hovered about the room. Different projections of the ship with colored arrows were the most prominent, but every now and again there was something different that didn't seem to belong.

As she traced the edges to a projection of a dissection of what had been Loki's scepter, she looked up to him and muttered, "Is this going to work?"

Tony concentrated harder on the screen, eyes intensely watching the stream of numbers. "Yup," He replied absent mindedly.

Pepper narrowed her eyes. "How can you be so confidant?"

Before he could respond, a new screen flared to life. Tony quickly uncrossed his arms and began typing away at the keyboard in front of him. As more numbers flashed across the screen, camera feeds began to blip to life where nothing had been previously present. Twitching his eyes to two in particular, he flicked his hand and enlarged them.

The woman looked up in surprise when she recognized Natasha's flickering form near what looked like a large computer terminal. She made a gasp of horror when she saw the Chitari soldier charge her, but exhaled in relief as the lights in the feed blinked out. Glancing back, she caught the smirk of triumph on her beau's face at the sudden dimness on the screen.

"Did you do that?" She muttered.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke.

"You asked why I'm so confidant, Peps?" He resumed her previous question, her second going unanswered - though she was fairly certain she already knew the answer. "For one, they've got me on their team and for another…" A third camera feed blinked to life before her, this time of a certain Asgardian she all too well recognized. "They've got _him._"

Pepper didn't reply. She was too engrossed in the feeds. She stared intently into the newest one, watching Loki smirk in defiance to the one who had been his master.

She started as he glanced back and straight into the camera, as if he had looked straight at her. It felt like he could actually see her, as if he knew she was watching. Frankly, she wouldn't be surprised if he was. He turned back to look at the Other, still managing a confidant aura that should not be possible for someone in his situation.

Swallowing, Pepper looked back to Tony, who now stared much more intently at the numbers that flitted across the screen. He narrowed his eyes and hissed under his breath as the lights attempted to flicker back on.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked carefully.

Tony glanced back at her, a wry smile slipping onto his lips. Gesturing to a table nearby with a metal box laying upon it, he refocused on the numbers. "Put those on and tell me what you see."

Pepper's expression turned incredulous as she moved toward the box, eyes filled with interest. She lifted the unsecured lid, and was met with a pair of strange looking glasses and a pair of silvery gray and blue gauntlets. Curiously, she pulled the glasses out and set them on her face.

Instantly, a screen flared to life against her eyes and she gasped. Was this what Tony saw when he was in the suit? She turned when she heard her beau chuckle softly at her reaction.

"Well?" He asked, his eyes not leaving the screens before him, new ones flashing to life every few seconds.

Blinking, Pepper focused on the numbers and words before her as she absent mindedly clicked the gauntlets onto her wrists. "Umm…It says 295 Kelvin. What's that?"

"Temperature," The genius answered quickly with his smirk still on his lips. "And not a good one for the Chitari."

Arching an eyebrow with her eyes tracing and following fluctuating lines and numbers on the screens before her, she formed another question, "What do you mean?"

Glancing back to her as she walked slowly towards him, her eyes focused on the glasses and not where she was walking, he responded, "The Chitari aren't too good with the cold and their ships don't do any better." His smirk turned wicked. "Say goodbye to structural integrity."

A smile found its way onto Pepper's face as she realized the impending doom they were thrusting upon the Chitari ship and that she was being a part of it. Being a hero-even in so minute a scale- did feel great.

"What else do you see?" Tony continued, pride swelling in him at the amazed expression on her face as her eyes twitched to follow the readings on the glasses.

Pepper continued to relay what she saw, her aid making it easier for the billionaire to follow more than just what his eyes could follow. They stayed like that, Pepper by his side, eyes twitching about, with her beau by her, taking in everything she said along with everything he saw.

They had to admit, they did make a pretty good team.

* * *

**I completely rewrote the ending to Pepper and Tony's scene because I despised the original ending I had. **

**Thanks for reading, ya'll! Your reviews and contructive criticisms are always appreciated! C:**


	23. I Am No Hero

**This chapter should not have taken so long and for that I do apologize. :C On a different note, Happy Memorial Day! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Loki sneered at the endearment, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms with a rattle from the chain linking the amplifiers. The Chitari on either side of him were waved off and they each left with a grunt. The Other snapped its fingers and the remaining Chitari abruptly abandoned their posts, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Uncomfortable silence ticked on between them as the trickster remained still where he stood and the Other paced across the raised floor, its hooded eyes never leaving the young Asgardian below it.

"You have me," Loki said with annoyance, spreading his arms dramatically. "Why do you remain here?"'

Cackling, it stopped, smiling wickedly behind the mask over his mouth. "You are as foolish as ever, _Asgardian,_" It spat.

Eyes hardening, Loki replied, "Oh, I know the answer."

Its grin widened. "Then you are more foolish than I had thought for even coming here. Nothing will change. You will suffer and they will die. What difference would it have made had you not surrendered? All you have done is make our work all the easier."

The trickster exhaled slowly as he crossed his arms again, feeling his magic pulse stronger and faster than before. He lifted his eyes to meet the Other, seeing something veiled behind hooded eyes. He arched an eyebrow.

"This is not simply vengeance," he let out slowly. "You need me for something."

It laughed horribly again, the repulsive sound echoing off the walls. "Maybe you are not as imprudent as I had thought, runt."

The Other walked forward, stepping off the raised platform and drawing closer to Loki. The silvertongue straightened, thankful for his superior height and looked down at it.

"What for?" he asked carefully, eyes twitching minutely to a screen far to the side that blinked an alarming shade of red.

"How do you think we got here?" it hissed gleefully. "How did _you_ originally get here?"

Loki took a step back, blinking in confusion as he tread through his memories to dredge up what had occurred while his mind had been so tangled between the whispers of deceit and the cold strings of the Chitari mind control.

He remembered. He knew how he had gotten here. He had used the tesseract to pinpoint his location and had used his magic to open the doorway just big enough for him to fit through. There was no way he would have been able to open it to the size needed to have brought the Chitari fleet with him. He needed the machine Eric had designed to accomplish that, along with the tesseract itself.

But the Other did not have the tesseract, nor did it possess the magic needed to open a portal of such magnitude, let alone a portal at all. How then, could they have gotten here? How had they opened the doorway?

Narrowing his eyes, Loki glanced around, his eyes catching onto something he had not previously noticed. There was something very recognizable about the ship, and not just the fact that he had been aboard something very similar to it before. There was a faint green shimmer to everything around him, carrying a cold familiarity he was quickly beginning to recognize. The lights pulsed to a beat, one he knew fairly well.

After all, it was the beat of his own heart.

Snapping his scrutinizing gaze back to the Other's growing smirk, he muttered, "Where did you get it?"

"You left it in the scepter," It rasped with a chuckle.

"I left that cursed thing on Midgard," Loki insisted with a growl, clenching his fingers together.

Laughing again, it responded, "Do not be so foolish as to believe you did not leave your mark elsewhere on our home world." With a terrible smirk, it continued, "There was only enough to bring us here, and we need much more to go farther…"

Loki's heart clenched as he realized the meaning behind those words. They wanted him for revenge, to make him suffer for his failings, but they needed more than that. They needed him to open the gateways between the realms so they might rage through with their terrible armies, bringing fire and pain and leaving death and destruction in their wake.

"No," he stated with a snarl and growing agitation.

The Other stepped closer, his two thumbed hand underneath his cloak. "I never gave you a choice, whelp." Something silver glinted beneath its hand. "Not yet, at least."

Sudden pain exploded into his abdomen and Loki gasped in shock, stepping back. Something shattered and the chains around his wrists vaporized into thin air. His eyes darted down at the flash of metal in the corner of his vision, gaze widening at the hilt that protruded from his abdomen, the only metal to be seen slowly turning a sickly red.

Another choke of pain escaped his lips. What felt like fire tore around the new wound, biting, gnawing, and burning. It began to spread across his veins, ebony intermixing with the red that dripped around the blade. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the floor.

He clawed at the ground, gritting his teeth as the torment continued to spread and a horribly recognizable haze grew around his vision. Breathing was becoming something much harder to accomplish than it normally would. It felt like a suppressing weight bore down into his chest, crushing the weakening thrum of his magic. The pulse along the walls began to slow, dimming from its already dull light.

It crouched beside him, its amused, satisfied smirk on its face again. Loki glared up at it, refusing to let out any bark of pain in defiance.

"There was once a time where you simply gave in," It whispered hoarsely. "This time can be the same."

"No," the trickster ground out with a scowl. A thousand voices began to claw at the edge of his mind. Each of them whispered to him, tried to soothe him in his pain. They were lying. Those horrid voices lied. They always did. They always had the last time this haze had ripped at his consciousness.

He pushed them back, ignoring their cries. He would not so easily fall to their control as he had once before.

The Other scowled slightly, before smiling wickedly again. It snapped its fingers and a new surge of pain swept through his body. Clenching his hands, his back arched in the torment, but he remained silent in his suffering. Never would he give them that satisfaction.

The last time this poison had coursed through his veins, it hadn't been this painful. There had been some pain, but it was more numbing, as if all it wanted was to eliminate the pain that was already there. He had willingly welcomed the strange haze, thinking it would grant him unimaginable power, heal his wounds, and soothe the aching crack in his heart that had slowly but surely been increasing in width over the years.

But now he knew what that fog truly granted, or rather, what it stole. Never again would they gain the control they once had. He refused to let them. Even if the poison was stronger than what he could endure, he would not relent.

Loki opened his eyes slightly and glowered at the Other that crouched beside him, a growing smirk over its face. His eyes widened as he caught his reflection in the floor below and his heart nearly skipped a beat.

His once emerald green eyes were tinted with blue.

No. No, he was not going to let this happen again. He moved the hand that wasn't holding his up against his abdomen and let its temperature drop. Frost began to encase his fingers, cold and sharp. Quickly, ice crystals formed, forming around his palm and sharpening to a dangerous point.

He grit his teeth as another wave of pain surged through him, the Other content to patiently wait for the poison to do its work. Meeting its eyes again, the trickster ground out one word.

"Never."

They would not use him again, he would make sure of it. Fighting through the pain, he set the point of the ice blade over his heart. He gasped for breath, hoping he had the strength to do it.

Something within his mind snapped sharply and loudly, pain careening into his head with a crashing ferocity that nearly sent him collapsing into the floor. Loki gasped at the sudden movement, his hand slipping and the ice blade shattering onto the floor. Biting his lip, he moved the now free hand moving downward to grasp around the hilt of the blade embedded in his abdomen as the wound continued to burn like fire.

Clenching his eyes shut, he waited for another wave of pain, hoping to predict it in time to suppress it from its full force so he'd have time to make another ice dagger.

That wave never came.

Loki's eyes flicked open and he sucked in another breath, realizing the numbness had faded. Tearing his gaze from the floor, he glanced around, surprised to see the Other had risen and backed away several feet with a wary expression. That was not what caught his attention, however.

What was most important was how bright, rapid, and strong the pulsing green lights and shimmers had become.

Something in his chest flared to life, something like warm, soothing fire spreading from his heart and throughout. The thrum against his chest sparked to a strength he hadn't felt it at for more than a year. It beat fast and furious, sending tendrils of warmth across his body. It sang excitedly, bringing a cocky smirk to his lips. Tightening his grip around the hilt, the trickster grit his teeth as he slid the blade out of his abdomen with a hiss of pain.

The dagger still in his hand, Loki slowly pushed himself up off the floor, forcing himself to keep from staggering. His eyes met the Other's as he pressed his free hand firmly against the bleeding wound in his stomach.

The Other gaped at him, its hands clenching. "How? You shouldn't…" it trailed off with a scowl.

Loki's only response was a triumphant smirk as a bright green light flashed underneath his free hand and the blood slowed its flow from the quickly sealing wound. Flipping the knife casually in the air and catching it deftly in his hand again, he stepped closer to it, eyes flashing like emerald fire.

"Like I said, before," he stated firmly, "Never again."

It growled, producing another dagger in its hand as it snapped its fingers. The lights in the room flashed brightly before dimming completely into darkness, only a few humming blue lights and a blinking red warning remained.

Loki lowered himself closer to the ground, holding the knife firmly in his grip and lifting his other hand to encase it in green fire, brighter and stronger than the flames he had conjured from before. There was barely discernible movement as the Other moved across the floor.

"If you will not submit, we will force the energy we need out of you," Its voice echoed, grating and horrible.

"Good luck with that," The trickster replied with a smirk.

The sound of several footsteps reverberated from around the room as what he assumed were Chitari soldiers shuffled into the room. Miniscule, glowing blue dots near their eyes were the only things that could've possibly given away their position. It was all he needed.

A sound closely resembling that of the air being sliced through with a blade was quickly followed by a screech of pain and a crash. Loki slid easily through the shadows, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the lack of light as he ascertained the number of foes around him. He had fought in the dark before. He had become accustomed to striking from the shadows. He had become an expert at it through his many years of trickery.

The assembled Chitari all growled threats in their guttural language as they charged towards him. With an amused grin, the trickster closed his eyes, feeling the air shift around him as the plains of reality shifted in a flash of light. When he opened his eyes he was met with the sound of several of the warriors crashing into each other in the spot where he had been but moments before. They pushed up, trying to right themselves again. Before they could, a spark of electricity surged through one and quickly spread to every one of them. Once again, they crashed to the ground, but this time they didn't get back up.

The air behind him shifted and he spun around, catching the Other's arm before the dagger held in its hand penetrated his chest. It scowled as Loki pushed it back, sending it several steps backward.

A tremor shook the ground, rumbling warningly as something underneath them creaked. Neither paid it any mind, choosing instead to bore holes into each other's eyes with their glares.

"Your efforts are futile, Jotun rat," it snarled before lunging again, the air sparking around its fingers.

Loki slid easily around the attack, eyes watching its movements closely. "And what makes you think that?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

In the heat of the battle, the trickster had overlooked the wounded Chitari that had lain on the ground from before. However, movement caught his eye and he glanced over, eyes widening as the creature grated a dangerous looking lever to the highest point it could reach.

"Because you're here, and Midgard is out there. We don't need Midgard," It growled sadistically, eyes glinting, "We need you."

Emerald eyes snapped back to the voice and he quickly slid to the side before another dagger could impale his stomach. Loki's gaze narrowed on the Other as it stepped back, tossing the knife between its hands.

The green glow from before flashed back to life, the room suddenly illuminated once again in an eerie light. The Chitari collapsed to the ground in an unbreathing heap, a green tinged dagger protruding from its back. The consoles switched back to life, every light shining a dangerous red warning. A low hum began to resound throughout the room, haunting and distant as something far away started up.

Loki growled dangerously, eyes narrowing at the creature before him. "What are you doing?"

It smirked. "You've proven yourself competent enough. I believe you know the answer."

He did know the answer.

And he had promised to himself no more blood would be on his hands. The only blood he would add would be the Chitari's. None would die this day for his sake. He would make sure of it. Right now, he didn't matter -not that he ever had before. Right now, all that mattered was protecting the oblivious world that slumbered outside, unaware of the imminent doom that hung above their heads.

How had he so quickly gone from despising the Midgardians to giving all he had to protect them? Was it because something in him had changed since he had last been here? Was it due to the Avenger's doing? Or perhaps it was the rebellious nature in him that wanted nothing more than to differentiate himself from anything the Chitari had instilled within him…

Yes, he decided. It was the last one. The Chitari had wanted him to destroy and enslave all of Midgard. In an effort to prove to them they did not own him, that he was no longer theirs, he would not do what they had previously told him to. He would do the opposite. He would destroy those that had been his masters and protect those he had initially come to eliminate.

And the Avengers had nothing to do with his decision.

Nothing.

At least, that's what he told himself.

Loki's eyes glinted with something dangerous as he stared hard at the creature before him. A beat of silence passed as the hum grew in strength, the light in the room brightening with each passing second.

"You've made a mistake," He stated simply with a wicked smile. "A grave one."

The Other uncaringly cocked its head in casual curiosity. "Oh? What's that?"

The trickster's smirk widened, eyes moving to glance around the entire console room. "Your ship is running off a reservoir of stolen magic." Another moment slipped by as he raised his eyes back up to the Other. "_My_ magic."

With an unbridled warmth hammering against his chest and reverberating with a long suppressed song, Loki slammed his hand into the ground, a cascade of green and white light exploding from the contact point. The action sent a deafening boom to resound throughout the room and beyond. Tendrils of lightning fast green swirled and spun around the room, pulled out from the very walls as the hum from before died away.

It wrapped around him like a shielding cocoon, swirling violently around him. It was as if it had a mind of its own, trying to do what it could to protect what it had been so long separated from. This magic hadn't grown accustomed to its 'host.' It had only longed to return to where it belonged and now it had finally achieved its goal.

The sudden influx of sound and light had thrown the Other to the ground. It gasped in horror as ice began to form along the edges of the walls, white frost quickly crawling across the floor. The floor cracked and fire sprang to life from below. It rose from where it had fallen, growling at the Asgardian kneeling on the floor, shaking violently and vulnerable.

A dagger was in its hand within a moment and it screeched gutturally, the machinery behind it crackling in warning of the electricity coursing through it. The Other sprinted toward the collapsed and faintly glowing trickster.

It only made it halfway before there was an unmistakable twang in the air. It screeched in pain, crashing to the floor with a dull, lifeless thud, an arrow protruding from its eye.

* * *

**I found writing the exchange between Loki and the Other quite entertaining~ C:**

**Thanks for reading and sticking with me despite the erratic update schedule! Reviews and constructive criticisms are appreciated~**


	24. Truth and Long Gone Life

**This was originally two chapters, but I decided to shove them together and make one, bigger chapter. Enjoy~ **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

The thrum against his heart grew stronger and stronger until it completely enveloped him, pounding violently and painfully against his skull. He hadn't realized how much of his magic he had left behind, how much they could still use. The Chitari's mind control had been linked to it, bringing tendrils of unwelcome cerulean careening into his chest alongside the familiar green.

He collapsed onto his knees, feeling his insides twist and turn as the blue wisps snaked through his veins, trying desperately to smolder his innards into ash. It viciously clawed at his mind, scraping and unrelenting. He could barely feel it reaching out to more than what was there in between the slashes at his consciousness.

He could sever it. He could make sure they would never be able to return to Midgard, let alone any other realm. He just had to follow it, break it at the source and nullify any left over from being usable-to scatter it into oblivion.

Heaving in a breath, his eyes open just enough to see the cascade of white and green light that swirled around him, he folded in on himself, forcing his mind to shut out the gnawing burn that wracked his body and fight off the invading blue Chitari tendrils.

The planes of reality shifted around his mind, everything around him vanishing with a silent blink. Only a tight green string remained in an expanse of ebony. He latched onto it, following it across the shroud of darkness until he reached its source.

It curled around in on itself, akin to an intricate spider's web. Gritting his teeth against the enraged screeches of the blue tendrils clawing at his mind, he focused on twisting the string at its base, until it could no longer withstand the tension. It was stretched so taut already. It wouldn't be too hard…

A terrible crack reverberated through his head. His mind snapped back to where it belonged. Only a moment of silence beat past before the string he had followed careened back into his chest with a sudden ferocity. It threw him off his knees and onto the ground, gasping for breath.

Darkness fought to overcome his vision, tendrils of blue continuing to scratch and gnaw within him. He couldn't pass out now, not with the barriers at his mind so weakened. They would break in and wreak havoc, rendering all he had done for nothing. As inviting as the ebony seemed, he couldn't give into it.

He couldn't.

It was so enticing though, to let it take over - to shroud the pain and dull the blue tendrils' burning in his veins. He opened his eyes slightly, the bright green and white light still swirling around him, veiling his sight. Spots of black danced across the plain of color. What was he doing here, again?

Something in front of him screeched in pain before there was a thud that scattered remnants of the light. The tendrils shifted closer to him, fading as they sunk into his body. He was so tired and the darkness so alluring. His head was pounding; his chest continued to flare as if it were on fire, unable to deal with the sudden influx of power dwelling in him.

Another presence was next to him suddenly. There were voices and then a crash. Behind his closed eyelids a tendril of violet intertwined with the green, scattering away a venomous blue string. His consciousness slipping, the darkness began to take over his sight.

No, he couldn't…not now, but why? He couldn't remember. Why did he not want to sleep? What purpose would that serve?

Slowly, ebony overtook his senses, another presence moving beside him as the whole ground underneath him shook. Darkness enveloped him and his body went limp, his magic thrumming hungrily against his chest.

* * *

The arrow was flying from its string before he could blink.

It was instinctual; the door hadn't even been fully open before he had an arrow nocked and ready to fire. The charging creature had been immediately classified as a threat to his and his partner's personal safety. It had absolutely nothing to do with the collapsed and glowing form curled on his side in the middle of the floor. The archer hadn't even registered his presence until after the arrow was shot.

He didn't kill the Other to save Loki's life. He did it to protect his own. At least, that's what he told himself once the body hit the floor.

Electricity crackled through the air as Natasha and Clint tread quickly across the floor, eyes scanning their surroundings sharply and effectively. Several Chitari bodies were accounted for, as well as the Other, before being assessed as unimportant given the more pressing circumstances around them.

Several screens blared warnings as the entire ship groaned, shifting to the side. Red light began to flood the room, shrouding everything in crimson. A cool mist formed around the edges of a vent, the slits icing over.

Natasha moved briskly to Loki's side, fingers aside his neck in an indifferent medical obligation. She frowned, head snapping up at the sound of distant screeches.

Looking back to her partner, she announced gravely, "He's alive, but he's not waking up any time soon."

A sudden explosion rocked the ship, sending a groaning wail to echo throughout the structure. The static in the air intensified as fire exploded from one of the machines. The flames were quickly smothered by the white mist that was beginning to infect the edges of the room.

Clint bit his lip, eyes roving over the large control room. "We'll have to find a different way out. There's no way we can get out the way we came."

Bright light flashed across the room, followed closely by a roll of thunder, revealing the severely tinted windows lying above the many terminals on the far side of the room. The archer squinted, mind whirring with adrenaline. He glanced up and to the left, straight into the glowing eye of a security camera.

With the red lights flashing sporadically, the archer strapped his bow around him and lifted his hands, moving them about in erratic motions. Natasha glanced from her partner to the camera, and wordlessly moved toward one of the computer terminals that had suddenly lost its crimson warning. The fire raging about the floor continued to spread, the room quickly filling with smoke.

Another explosion rocked the ship and it began to lean dangerously to the side, structure groaning in protest. Clint moved swiftly to his partner's side.

Glancing at her partner from where she worked at the terminal, Natasha muttered, "How did you know Pepper knew sign language?"

The archer smirked. "We've got more important things to worry about…" He glanced over the screen quickly and concisely, eyes catching every detail. Without another word he slid his hand into Natasha's and they both sprinted to the back of the room.

"One," Natasha whispered, raising her gun and aiming it at the durable glass.

"Two," Clint echoed, leaning down and sliding his hands under Loki's body.

"Three." His partner threw him a disapproving look.

"Four." He shook his head, indicating he didn't intend to leave the trickster there to die in the flames.

"Five." Her count held a resigned tone as she made no move to disagree.

"Six." The smoke filling the room was beginning to mask their vision, the fire clawing closer and closer to them.

"Seven." A shot rang through the air, tailed shortly by another. The glass cracked under the force, two bullet holes so close together they might as well have been one marring its surface.

"Eight." The glass continued to splinter, cracks spider webbing across its face.

"Nine." The two assassins crouched, Natasha holstering her gun, preparing to run.

"Ten." In the same exact moment, they both tore across the fire marred ebony floor. Jumping on top of the console, they pushed off of it and slammed through the fractured glass which gave way in a loud shatter.

Weightlessness overwhelmed both of them, nothing underneath them as they began to plummet through the air and towards the ocean several thousand feet below. Clint could feel his heart pounding in his ears, excitement coursing through his veins.

Archer and spy righted themselves in the air just in time to land heavily against a giant metal wing. Clint slammed heavily against it, enough so that he lost his grip on the trickster. Before Loki could tumble off the edge, the marksman snatched his arm and held on tightly to a tiny divot in the sleek metal covering of the plane.

A fireball erupted from where they had come, engulfing the entire control room from which they had escaped moments before.

He grunted as the plane turned as carefully as a plane flying around an exploding ship could turn, his hold slipping. Just as he believed the trickster was about to fall into the ocean far below, another hand shot out and wrapped around the opposite arm.

Clint's gaze shot up to meet his partner's. Her olive green eyes shone back with an odd fire in them. She grunted and helped him pull Loki securely on the plane from her much safer position closer to the middle of the craft. Once that was done, Clint edged slowly over to Natasha, dragging Loki behind him.

On the spine of the plane, the two assassins stared into each other's eyes as the whole situation sunk in. They had just jumped out of the window of an exploding ship with only the word of Tony Stark to go off of, hoping beyond hope that their timing was exact as it could be. Had they been a second too soon, they would've plummeted into the waters below, and had they been too late the fires of the ship would've consumed them.

It was with this knowledge that Clint Barton let his ragged breathing slow down and his death grip on the metal below him loosen. He lifted a hand to Natasha's face and set his forehead against hers.

A second of stunned silence passed.

Then, he kissed her.

Nothing short of shock passed through those bright olive eyes as her partner pressed his lips against hers. It wore off rapidly, however, and she returned it wholeheartedly.

On that plane, in the middle of the sky, where no one else could see them and with an alien ship burning behind them, did they kiss.

Something strong flared against Clint's chest, something warm and singing as it beat to the tune of his heart. It sang in his head, telling him what he already knew.

They knew each other. They knew their hearts. They also knew love was for children. It was a fact, an unchangeable rule they had created themselves in an effort to dispel their own feelings.

But then again, Clint and Natasha were never ones to follow the rules, now were they?

* * *

_The forest was so big. It was so dark. The shadows of the towering trees loomed around him and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Everything was so eerily quiet, so still. It was peaceful, but no kind of peaceful he was comfortable in. _

_"THOOOR!" The blonde haired teen yelled, shivering._

_No answer came and he continued to glance this way and that, terror filling his bright blue eyes. A cold shiver ran up his back and he twitched, eyes roving over the forest. He could feel his eyes burning, and he fought to keep back the fear fueled tears. _

_Something behind him rustled the leaves, and he swiveled to meet it, fists raised in a weak defense. His eyes widened as the entire landscape contorted, transforming into a fanged face, grinning maniacally down at him. _

_His breath caught in his throat as everything around him changed, warping into a deranged creature pursuing to kill him. They all surrounded him, boring down at him with menacing smiles. _

_He couldn't hear his scream as they pounced. _

_Baldr jerked awake with a scream, face stained with tears. Frigga was in the room in an instant, keen to the voices of her children._

_"What is the matter, child?" she asked calmly, words laden with concern._

_The boy did little more than lean into his mother's embrace with a suppressed sob._

_"E-everything was…trying t-to kill me," he managed to stammer. "Just like last time and the time before that and-"_

_"Shh," Frigga whispered, rubbing his back comfortingly. A protective fire suddenly sprouted in her eyes, and idea forming in her mind. "Nothing will be able to hurt you, Baldr."_

_"N-nothing?"_

_"Nothing."_

* * *

_Five Years Later_

_"I can't take it anymore!" Loki yelled frustratingly. He paced across his room, dramatically throwing his hands in the air with an annoyed look in his face._

_He grabbed a yellow flower out of a vase and stuck it in his hair, batting his eyes. "Oh, look, I'm Baldr. I'm invincible now JUST BECAUSE I HAD BAD DREAMS AND COMPLAINED TO MOTHER ABOUT THEM," he imitated with sarcasm dripping from his tongue._

_"NOTHING IN THE UNIVERSE CAN HURT ME LOOK HOW AMAZING I AM," he continued. With a snarl, he yanked the flower out of his hair and vaporized it with a flurry of green fire._

_The trickster flopped onto his bed with an all suffering sigh. Turning his head he met the bead eyes of a small plush fox. "You understand the situation don't you?"_

_There was no response, due in part to the fact that Loki was talking to an inanimate object about his problems. This fact slowly sunk into his mind. When it did, he rolled over, screamed into a pillow and chucked it at a wall._

_"I need to go for a walk," he muttered, pointedly telling himself he wasn't talking to the plush fox. Gathering what was left of his composure, he pushed off the bed and walked out onto the balcony. Jumping up onto the railing closest to the wall, he edged onto the ledge circling the building. He went on until he reached a statue of a dragon that sat with wings spread a meter or two below the ledge._

_With practiced ease, Loki slid off his perch and landed effortlessly on the dragon's neck. Rolling onto his back he looked upward to the star ridden sky and relaxed, content to let himself calm down outside under the ebony sky. He'd seen the secluded garden below many times, but the expanse above always had something new to find._

_He stayed that way for several hours, drifting into slumber multiple times. He wouldn't have heard the conversation below if his senses hadn't been so naturally acute._

_"I will not fail you, master," the voice was faint, but clearly recognizable as his younger brother, Baldr._

_Curiosity sparked in his being, the thrum against his chest humming cautiously._

_"Hush," he whispered, setting a hand on his chest, the humming slowly calming._

_Carefully, Loki rolled over so he could see what was happening below him, ears pricked. Several meters below, the blue eyed, blonde haired teen crouched on a rock, seemingly staring at nothing with a dagger in his hand. Odd, he couldn't remember Baldr ever having a dagger that looked anything like that._

_"Thor will die and Asgard will fall, you have my word."_

_Loki's heart stopped in his chest._

_Surely he hadn't heard that right. Surely Baldr was just talking in his sleep…_

_"What of Loki?"_

_He could've sworn his blood ran cold at the mention of his own name. He pressed closer to the back of the dragon, straining his ears to hear every word that was about to follow._

_"…he will suffer the blame. He will not get in the way."_

_That sounded too much like a twisted sort of challenge for the trickster to ignore. He remained as still as possible as he watched his younger brother seemingly converse with the air around him._

_Baldr remained motionless for several more seconds before suddenly jerking to the side. He gasped, blinking in confusion as if he had just awoken. It was in that moment that Loki noticed that strange glint in the boy's eyes. The bright sapphire seemed deeper, closer to cerulean. It was so minute a detail it would have been passed off as a trick of the light._

_And that's exactly what Loki did. He ignored that odd shine and he was going to come to regret it._

_As his younger brother shook away the haze and left the garden, Loki watched with a scrutinizing eye. Once Baldr was gone, he shimmied down the dragon's back and clambered back onto the ledge. Within a minute he had returned to the relative safety of his balcony and had scrambled onto his bed._

_Without missing a beat, he stared into the beady eyes of the fox with a sincere and serious expression._

_"You won't believe what just happened."_

* * *

_One Week Later_

_He'd spent literal days in the library, pouring over documents and records of spells and potions to break invincibility. He was weary eyed and exhausted from heaving so many books from the shelves and reading them all with a speed no other Asgardian could achieve. It had come to his attention, however, that the answer to his predicament wasn't found in any leather bound tome._

_It was in his mother's diary._

_To his credit, he hadn't even taken the diary from her room. He'd gone in from the balcony while she was away and had read it under her bed for as long as he dared before he found what he was looking for._

_It was with the information he had acquired did he now sit at his desk, laboring tirelessly over several leaves of mistletoe carefully molded into the shape of an arrow head. Cautiously, he attached it to the end of an arrow shaft._

_With a look of triumph, he nocked the arrow to his bow and tested the draw length to make sure he had made the shaft long enough. Satisfied with his work, Loki strapped his bow to his back and, holding the toiled over arrow tightly in his hand, he ran out to the balcony and followed the path he trekked one week ago._

_Clouds hid away the night sky. Tonight there was nothing new to discover in the ebony above. It didn't matter, he wasn't out here to watch the stars. Not this night._

_With a dull thud, he landed on the dragon's neck and pressed himself against it. Conversation filtered into his ears as he heard his two brothers walk into the garden and he pricked his ears to hear every word._

_He'd heard his younger sibling ask Thor that morning if he'd be willing to join him for a walk through the gardens later that day. Although he had initially declined, the warrior had been quickly swayed by Baldr's persistent persuasions._

_He didn't know what Baldr was exactly planning to do, but he knew the gist of it._

_Baldr was going to kill Thor and Loki wasn't about to let that happen._

_"It must be wonderful to not have to fear the harm of any creature, Baldr," Thor's face came in faintly from below._

_The boy nodded. "Yes, Mother was very kind to go to such extents for me."_

_The thunderer laughed and clasped a hand on his brother's back. "It is too bad you do not wish to fight in battle, brother. We could use your gift in Asgard's favor."_

_Something passed through Baldr's eye, something cerulean and dark, but Loki waved it off as unimportant. "Aye, Asgard could use all the help it can get," he muttered almost to himself._

_He turned, something silver glinting from underneath his sleeve. The instant he saw it, the trickster's bow was out and nocked. All he had to do was break the invincibility and Thor would have a chance to fight back…_

_The arrow flew._

_The knife clattered to the ground._

_Baldr choked, eyes wide and much bluer than they ought to be._

_He collapsed._

_Dying blue eyes met emerald green ones._

_Loki's heart stopped._

_And he ran._

* * *

**Woah, a lot of stuff just happened. A note: those last three bits are a flashback. I think you guys could've figured that out, but I just wanted to make sure.**

**Edit: Changed it a bit to make the flashback clearer**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are always appreciated~ C:**


	25. Answers

**I'd like to take this moment to mention that I totally made a replica of Loki's scepter. That is all.**

******Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

A sharp gasp of pain shot from his throat, jarring him to his senses. Loki blinked, sight hazy, as he worked to determine where he was. Bright light met his eyes and he groaned, shutting out the outside world to escape the burning glow.

Everything hurt. Not a bad hurt, it was more like the soreness one felt after a good exercise. Except it was nothing like that. What did it feel like? It felt like someone had lit fire inside his chest and had let it ravage through his blood stream. His whole body felt burned.

The calming thrum of his magic filled his ears and soothed his pain. Although it was warm against his chest, it wasn't uncomfortable. Though, it did bear an odd similarity to the pain that felt like internal burns throughout his insides.

Other sounds filtered into his ears and he chanced another try at seeing without being blinded by the bright lights above him. He admittedly regretted it a second after opening his eyes and groaned again, pressing his palms against his tortured eyes. Something moved beside him. Loki almost immediately recognized the familiar presence beside him.

"What happened?" he muttered, annoyed at his scratchy voice.

"We defeated the Chitari," a gruff, but friendly and concerned voice answered after a moment. It was undeniably Thor's.

Loki wracked his brain in an attempt to recall all that had happened on that ship. Unfortunately, he could only remember up to the point when he pulled the remnants of his magic out of the ship. After that, everything was a giant haze of green, white, and black.

Ignoring the stinging in his eyes, he forced them open again, thankful that the warrior's form was blocking most of the light now.

"How?"

Thor smiled as he recalled the adrenaline of what had been most enjoyable for him.

"Although the ship was stronger than most, the ice had weakened its structure as well as its warriors inside," he began regaling. "Banner and I's combined strength fell the mighty beast and Stark was able to ensure a safe implosion that eradicated anything left."

The trickster squinted, confusion muddling his normally sharp thoughts. "Why would you and Banner destroy the ship if Stark could just destroy it from the inside?"

Laughing wholeheartedly at the younger's uncharacteristically dazed expression, the warrior went on, "For one, that is far less fun and for another, Stark was unaware he was able to do such a thing until after the ship began crashing towards the ocean."

For some annoying reason, Thor's words didn't seem to want to click in Loki's head. Instead, he sat on the medical cot with eyes full of confusion and thoughts still scattered. So the ship was destroyed, but hadn't he been in the ship? How had he escaped? Had the two assassins escaped? What had happened to them? What had happened to the Other?

Thor gently patted Loki's shoulder, all his questions going unanswered as the warrior spoke. "Sleep, brother. You have been through quite the tumult."

"But-" Loki protested, questions already forming on his tongue. A sudden weariness overwhelmed his senses and he thought he caught sight of a needle protruding from his arm. His eyes dropped and he welcomed the ebony that enveloped him, washing away the gnawing fire that continued to smolder in his veins.

* * *

Thor watched as the younger Asgardian fell victim to sleep once more, turning to meet the eyes of his friend.

"Will he be alright, Banner?"

Bruce turned from the table and smiled tiredly. "He should be. His body is buzzing with energy and any wounds I can only assume he had have already been healed. He just needs to rest up and he'll be fine."

The thunderer sighed and sat down on one of the plastic chairs, Mjolnir swinging by his side. "What am I to do, my friend?" he whispered, eyes distant.

Raising an eyebrow, the scientist answered with another question. "About what, Thor?"

His only answer was a hand gesture toward the comatose trickster on the bed. When that wasn't enough explanation, Thor went on, "Our only reason for coming to Midgard was to remove the magic within the Hawk. I could not have predicted all of this would've transpired. It is over and yet the magic remains," he sighed wearily, continuing, "When we return, my brother will still receive his original punishment for the crimes he committed here six months ago, and all of this will be forgotten."

Bruce bit his lip, mulling over the problem Thor had presented. "Well, can't you explain what happened? Isn't he supposed to go to Jotunheim until his crimes are paid for? Maybe this whole fiasco can replace that?" he offered hopefully, though there was doubt in his tone.

Thor raised his eyes, expression determined. "I will do all I can to help my brother. I have failed him in too many ways these past years. If he is to be banished to Jotunheim, then I will join him," he declared. He stood, addressing his friend once more. "My only regret would be that I would be unable to assist my fellow Avengers shouldst the need arise."

Waving it off, the scientist answered, "Do whatever you need to for him. I'm sure we can manage without you if you can't come."

The thunderer nodded his thanks, before pushing aside the door. "Thank you for caring for my brother, my friend."

Bruce dipped his head, fiddling with a vile in his hands. "Don't worry about it."

With a smile of gratitude, Thor left the room, leaving it silent and emptier with one less being within it.

* * *

He could feel it thrum against his chest now. It coursed excitedly through his veins with every shot, swelling giddily every time the arrow pierced the bull's eye with an unmistakable thud. Clint smirked. Now that he knew it was there, now that he could feel it, he was actually quite enjoying it.

It had only been a few days after the entire Chitari fiasco, and Loki had yet to awaken as far as he had been informed. The archer and his partner hadn't said a word about the love they'd revealed on the plane since it had landed. From what they knew of each other, for they knew each other better than they knew themselves, it was a love best kept secret.

Love may not be for children, but it was still just as exploitable.

The thought of Natasha sent the borrowed magic trilling against his mind, swirling through his chest and filling his body with energy. With another satisfied smirk, Clint rolled across the ground of the training arena, springing up from behind a crate and sending an arrow through the heart of a target with ease.

Light flooded the arena, crawling upward against the walls, indicating the end of another perfect round. The archer straightened, checking the clock mounted on the opposite wall. He decided that that was enough for today and collapsed his bow, moving to pull his arrows out of the numerous targets.

"You could put most elves to shame, Hawk," a scratchy voice spoke from beside the door.

Clint swiveled his head to the voice, surprised to meet emerald green eyes. He fought back the instant urge to nock an arrow and send it into the trickster's eye as the small amount of magic in him flared and thrummed against his chest. Furrowing his brow, he answered, "Uh, thanks." A beat of silence passed before he continued, "So, you feelin' better, Lokes?"

Rolling his shoulders, the aforementioned muttered, "Marginally."

Silence reigned again as Clint calculatingly moved around the room, sliding arrows out of their target's centers. He moved in such a way that his back was never toward the trickster. It was not because he didn't trust him after defeating the Chitari. It was just instinctual for him. The only people he ever had his back to purposefully were part of the Avengers or SHIELD.

"What happened?"

The sudden break of quiet, made Clint instantly tense. Forcing himself to calm, he raised his eyes to meet Loki's once more.

"Well," he began, "What do you remember?"

Loki's face turned upward from where he leaned in the doorway. He stared hard at the ceiling, eyes not quite focused and limbs twitching slightly.

"Light. There was light and burning."

He lowered his gaze again. "What do _you_ remember, Hawk?"

The arrows clattered together as Clint gathered them together in his fist. Sliding them into his quiver, he pulled himself onto a crate and towards a target positioned higher than the others. He shrugged in answer to the question.

"Me and Nat ran into the control room and found you unconscious on the floor," he stated simply.

The trickster's eyes narrowed slightly. "And the Other?"

Clint bit his lip, dragging the stubborn arrowhead from its place in the bull's eye.

"Dead."

He could've sworn he heard Loki's entire body relax from where he stood on the other side of the room.

"Your escape?"

Jumping off the high platform, the archer landed with effortlessness, straightening and moving toward the exit.

"They didn't tell you anything, did they?" At the trickster's annoyed scoff, he continued, "We went through the window and landed on the back of a plane."

Emerald green eyes widened. "I was unaware Midgardians were so…reckless."

Clint shrugged offhandedly. "There wasn't any other feasible option."

Another awkward silence was held between them. The archer was quite certain the trickster still had more to say, but did not openly inquire. Instead, he waited for him to break the silence.

"What about myself?" Loki muttered finally, eyes still somewhat hazy.

"Oh, that." Right, he should've expected that question. The trickster couldn't remember anything after going unconscious, after all. With a dismissive tone, Clint answered, "I carried you and you almost fell off the plane when we landed on it."

The trickster's head canted to the side, mind still jumbled with fog and eyes narrowed.

"Why would you do that?" he mumbled. "You could've just left me."

Forcing himself to remain nonchalant about the entire ordeal, Clint responded with a shrug. "I'm an Avenger now." Blue grey eyes lifted to meet hazy emerald green. "That wouldn't have been right. After all, you did kinda save our lives."

An odd sort of agreeable feeling settled into the room at his proclamation. Loki's fingers twitched again and he twisted and turned them together.

"Thank you," he finally murmured.

Clint smiled naturally, his tone remaining casual. "Seriously, don't worry about it. It's my job." His eyes hardened, and his smile turned to a dark smirk. "Don't think this erases everything from six months ago, though."

A mischievous smirk slipped onto the trickster's face. "Of course."

"If anyone is going to kill you it's going to be me, not some alien."

Loki let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. "I'm sorry to tell you, Hawk, but someone else has already claimed me in that respect."

"Then I'll join him."

"Her."

"Oh, well that changes things," the archer chimed, his smirk turning roguish. "Then I'll make sure you two fall in love."

Another sarcastic laugh bit through the air, fully conveying the trickster's opinion on Clint's plans. "That only occurs in fairy tales."

"You _are_ a fairy tale."

Loki huffed, though a smile played on his lips. Something passed through his eyes and he seemed to suddenly remember why he had come down to the training arena in the first place.

"My magic still remains within you, Hawk," he stated, eyes drifting to the archer's heart.

Realization flicked through Clint's eyes as he understood what was about to happen. "Oh, yeah. That's why you came here in the first place, right?"

At the affirming nod, he sighed and walked up to the trickster until he was only a foot away. "Well, let's get it over with."

Something flickered through emerald green eyes and Loki furrowed his brow in thought as he straightened. "Wait a moment," he remarked before setting a gentle hand slowly against the archer's chest. Clint flinched away instinctively, but relaxed after a moment.

He could feel the magic in him swirl around the trickster's touch, but it did not leave. It remained, continuing to trill against his eardrums and thrumming against his chest. The spot where Loki had set his hand began to feel like it was burning and the archer ground his teeth together. Slowly, all the magic in him began to be pulled toward the contact point.

Just as he was about to ask if that was what was supposed to happen, Loki jerked his hand away, eyes wide and amazed.

"I didn't think it could do that within that timeframe…" he whispered almost to himself.

Clint narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Do what?"

"Adapt," his answer was stated simply. "Only six months and it has adapted fully to its new host…"

Confusion was expressed fully across Clint's face. "Uh, explanation please?"

Loki leaned against the doorframe again, running a hand across his face. "It's not my magic anymore, it's yours," he started. "The tether remains, so I'll have to sever that, but I can't remove it from you without extreme pain. Not to mention that once you have magic dwell within you, if it is taken away the feeling left behind is something…unimaginable."

Understanding flickered through blue grey eyes. "So, you aren't removing it?"

Green fire flared to life in Loki's hand in response to his question. His once foggy green eyes suddenly sharpened to their normal vivid emerald orbs. With a snap of his wrist, it formed the crude shape of a blade. Taking a step back, the trickster gripped the glowing, magic fueled knife in his hand and swung it upwards.

A loud, terrible snap reverberated throughout both of their minds. Clint stumbled back as something suddenly collided into his head. He groaned and rubbed his ringing ears. When he looked up, he caught sight of Loki also recovering from what he assumed felt like a blow to the head.

"O-okay," the recovering trickster stuttered, "That hurt more than I expected."

The thrum against his chest suddenly flared to life again, more vibrant and excited than before. The assassin subconsciously lifted a hand to his chest, the humming slowing in response to his touch. He blinked. It felt…different somehow.

"What did you do?" he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

Loki massaged his temple, eyes once again hazy. "Broke the tether," he answered plainly.

One blank, confused stare met his explanation and he sighed. "When I first turned you, I realized halfway through the process that Chitari mind control wouldn't be nearly enough to sway your stubborn will." His eyes grew distant. "You were an untamed creature, I needed more than what was given me to turn you."

"So I used my magic and embedded it within your mind. As I was under the Chitari influence myself, I forgot I had done this until only recently."

Slowly, understanding clicked within blue grey eyes. He hadn't been weak. All this time when he had been kicking himself over being weak enough to succumb to the Chitari mind control had been in false assumption. He had been far from weak. What made normal men kneel couldn't even faze him. It had taken all of the scepter's power alongside mythical magic to make him fall victim to the bidding of the Chitari.

He was strong.

Despite himself, Clint smiled and shook his head. The one who had been the source of his self reprimand now countered it and had made him realize that he wasn't as weak as he thought.

With a sigh, the archer looked back to the trickster. "And the tether is why we saw through each other's eyes?"

"That I have yet to determine," Loki muttered with an irritated tone, as if he was annoyed with himself for not having figured that out yet. "But it is the reason I came here and now that it is dealt with I must return to Asgard with my brother."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "You calling him your brother now?"

The trickster snorted, but his eyes betrayed his lack of disdain. "I'm too weary to think of an insult right now."

"Now, that's just an excuse," the archer shot back, a roguish smile playing on is lips. "So, you're just gonna leave and not remove your magic from my mind?"

"It has adapted to you now, Hawk," Loki said, eyes shining vividly for a moment. "It isn't mine anymore. It's yours."

"Glad to know I got something out of this," he muttered under his breath, though his tone was far from condescending. "But what am I supposed to do with it? You said yourself, there's not enough there for me to do much."

"Yet, there is enough for you to accomplish a great deal," replied the silvertongue with a smile. "That is, if you are willing to try."

"You offering to teach me?" Clint asked, slight sarcasm in his voice.

Rolling his eyes, his answer was short, "Ha. No."

"Then, what am I supposed to do with it?"

Loki glanced around quickly, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Soft, yellow green light gathered around his hand, brightening until it was shrouded beyond sight. Slowly, the light dissipated, replaced with a medium sized, leather bound book.

Fingering the cover for a moment as if reminiscing, Loki tossed it to the archer across from him. Clint caught it deftly, eyes curious.

"You won't be able to do much past the first few chapters," the trickster said quietly, turning to leave. "But it will serve you well."

Clint scrutinized the old tome, noting the wild and excited thrum against his chest at the proximity of the book. "Where did you get this?"

"The place between places," Loki answered with a shrug and casual tone.

With sincerity in his voice and curiosity still sparkling in his grey blue eyes, Clint responded with a quiet, "Thank you."

He turned it over in his hands, eyes roving across it concisely. He didn't miss the way the other room's occupant seemed to continually glance at it longingly. Arching an eyebrow, he wondered, "You don't need it anymore?"

A shadow passed over the silvertongue's eyes. "Not where I'm going."

Something clicked in the archer's mind as he remembered something he had been told while Loki was comatose. "Your punishment…"

Nodding solemnly in response, the trickster straightened from his position, turning to leave. "One I suppose I am due to return to. With the tether gone, I have no more excuse to remain here."

Tucking the tome under his arm, Clint followed him out the door. "Why can't you just stay here?"

Laughing sarcastically, Loki bit out a response, "As if your world would have me."

A roguish smirk found its way onto the archer's face once more. "They don't have to know."

"There's also the matter of Heimdall," the trickster continued as if uninterrupted. "He would surely inform the king of my rebellion, not to mention that Thor would not leave Midgard without me…the sentimental ox."

Clint had to bite back a laugh at the insult, managing to keep a casual air. "Sounds to me like you're not even gonna try to get out of it."

"It's already been decided," Loki muttered uncaringly. "No use in trying to defy it."

"Oh, please," he said with an eye roll. "How many decisions have you defied in your lifetime? I'm pretty sure you've already defied you original punishment seeing as you're pulsing with magic right now when you shouldn't have any."

Loki suddenly stopped his gait, realization sinking into his mind at the archer's words. His magic. If it was all inside of him, then it certainly wasn't in Gungnir. That meant someone had released it and it had come careening through the realms to crash into his chest. But who had the authority to even get near Gungnir? His mother was a possibility, but she couldn't have released it. Only the one who put it there could've freed it.

Odin. The king. His father.

Why in all the nine realms would Odin free his magic? What possible purpose could that have served? The only solution was that someone else had been involved, someone else had influenced him. His mother? She was the most likely candidate, but she wouldn't have persuaded her husband had she not known his situation and the only one who knew his situation was Heimdall, the gatekeeper.

That didn't make any sense. Why would Heimdall care about his wellbeing? They both knew he was to die on Jotunheim, magic or not. What difference would it have made had he mysteriously disappeared into the Chitari's clutches?

Perhaps the gatekeeper knew something he had not. Maybe, he knew the Chitari's intentions and had sent the queen to persuade her husband into aiding him. Or possibly he felt it was his duty to protect the wayward prince.

Or maybe it was because he had seen what had happened to Baldr and moved to prevent the trickster from falling into the alien's clutches once more.

Baldr. His sweet, bright eyed little brother. How had that innocent teen fallen into the atrocities of the Chitari?

"Uh, you okay, Green Eyes?"

Clint's voice stirred him from his reverie and blinked, an annoying fog hovering over his vision. The trickster glanced to the archer that walked aside him, eyebrow raised.

"I'm fine," he lied. He wasn't fine, not with what he was about to face back in Asgard, but he could certainly pretend he was fine. He had always been good at faking appearances; being that which he was not.

Blue grey eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Clint said nothing more. He discreetly fell behind and turned a corner, following the hallway to the stairs leading to the main living room. Skipping a step as he bounded up effortlessly, Clint pondered the exchange that had just taken place.

Magic from the being that had stolen his mind now dwelled within it, seemingly his to control. However, Loki's word was all he had to go off of. As much as he didn't trust the liesmith's words, there wasn't much else he could do. The thrum against his chest wasn't something so easily removed.

Not that he wanted it gone. The excited trill was oddly comforting, something he had quickly gotten used to. It beat in time with his heart and moved according to his emotions; flaring to a consuming flame when he was angry, swirling comfortingly and with a song when he was sad, and trilling vibrantly when he was excited.

He also noticed small changes within him because of that simple hum. His wounds healed quicker, his sight somehow sharper, and mind more acute.

The thrum against his chest was definitely something he could get used to.

* * *

**This is not at all what I had originally planned, but I like this much better, so whatever. **

**There's also only one more chapter after this! Almost done, guys! Woo!**

**Thanks for reading, and fro all the reviews! I love you guys! ^^**


	26. The Gateway

**Oh, chaos, I actually finished this thing. This is awesome! Enjoy the last chapter guys~ **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Loki felt more than saw the archer slip away.

It was strange. It was as if he could still hear the magic thrumming against the other's chest while still feeling his thrum to the beat of his own heart. His own no longer flared excitedly when the Hawk was close. It was now only minutely interested, curious to the 'new' magic swirling nearby. It saddened him somewhat to know that some of what had been his had in essence abandoned him. Then again, he had put it there to begin with. He had abandoned it first, he supposed.

But that wasn't much concern to him. At least some of him would live on in another.

Stopping at the end of the hall, the trickster glanced out the window, watching the city below that he had come so close to destroying.

Would they accept him shouldst he attempt to return under the pretense of Asgardian justice? Would these Midgardians set aside the evil he had committed if the Chitari's control was revealed and he sought their forgiveness? Perhaps. The Midgardians had such short life spans, holding grudges wasn't worth the time and energy expended to uphold them. They tended to forgive and move on for the sake of humanity as a whole.

It amazed him how much these creatures he thought below him in reality surpassed Asgard in so many ways.

Rubbing his fingers together, a spark jumping from his fingertips, Loki closed his eyes. Reality shifted around him, warping and contorting from the hallway to the room he had shared with Thor the past week. He didn't feel like walking all the way up there and wanted to take every chance to use his magic before he returned.

Emerald green orbs revealed once more, he glanced around, surprised by the immaculate state. Passing it off as the work of someone other than Thor, he waltzed over to the closet and rummaged through it until he found what he sought.

After a moment, the trickster pulled a small rubber ball from the closet's mass, triumph in his eyes and a smile on his face.

Holding it in one hand, he lifted the other, green lines snaking across his palm. With a smack, he brought it back down, the ball disappearing to the place between places.

This deed done, Loki again closed his eyes and let reality shift around him again until he stood in the stairway leading to the roof.

It was odd how familiar this place now seemed. Only a week ago did he tread down these steps, in line with his brother and between the soldier and billionaire. How much had changed in a simple week, when he had been left to hold conversation with those he held disdain. How much could change in a single conversation; bonds restored, tales long suppressed finally revealed, and concealed tensions finally let loose.

He was reluctantly glad to find that he could feel such relief before going to his death on Jotunheim.

As he pushed aside the metal doorway, the sun shining in, and climbed to the gravel laden roof, the trickster blinked in surprise when he found more than just Thor waiting for him. All six Avengers, along with Jane and Pepper, looked back at him, smiles on their faces, though other emotions hid behind their eyes. A pair of brown shined with mild concern while olive green still remained suspicious. Blue grey was veiled, but determination slid through and bright sapphire held sadness despite the excitement in every other aspect.

"What are you all doing here?" he asked, voice confused.

Clint crossed his arms, expression betraying a natural roguish impulse. "Being defiant."

Loki scoffed.

"Oh, don't be like that," Natasha scorned, lips taut. "We're doing this for you, don't you even try to complain."

"Come now, brother," Thor interjected, ignoring the twitch that came from the trickster at the term. It was instinctual and expected; he didn't mind anymore. "We will stand by your side in this."

"You weren't there before," Loki countered, stance defensive as he stood a few feet from the large group.

"And circumstances have changed," the thunderer responded flatly. "Today, we put aside what has been, and embrace that which is new."

"And because we wanna see Asgard," Tony chimed in, earning several agreeing nods from the other occupants of the roof.

Emerald green eyes roved across the roof, curious and skeptical. They offered to stand by his side in a defiant gesture against the king of all the nine realms, all in the defense of the one who had so eagerly tried to kill them six months ago.

The Avengers were noble indeed.

"Alright," he acceded reluctantly.

Thor's grin widened and walked up to his brother, clasping a hand on his shoulder. Loki flinched minutely at the touch, but made no other reaction. They both turned their heads to the sky, shielding their eyes from the sun above.

"HEIMDALL," Thor called loudly, "OPEN THE BIFROST."

Loki caught Jane tense in the corner of his eye, noting that she was the only human of the group that had ever seen the rainbow bridge open. They waited, fully expecting the sky to be torn asunder and for light to come cascading down around them.

But nothing happened.

Scrutinizing the sky, Thor yelled again, his tone bearing confusion. "HEIMDALL?"

Still the sky remained the same, no Bifrost opening from above.

"Something must be wrong," Loki whispered aside the warrior, noticing the confused expressions on their faces.

Thor began to speak, wondering aloud why the gatekeeper would not have opened the bridge, but the trickster heard none of it. Instead, his eyes grew distant, open, but not seeing. He let tendrils of his magic spread out on a separate plane of reality, crawling across the tower in search of another path, a different gateway.

His fingers twitching minutely, he followed the green strings as they twisted and turned across the ebony plane. He was prepared to travel to another continent to find another gate should it be required. Thankfully, he didn't have to travel that far. In fact, he hardly had to move at all.

Emerald eyes suddenly snapping back to their normally vivid color, Loki took in stammering breath as his magic calmly flowed back into him. It was a startling contrast to the several painful times it had crashed back into him in the past week.

"Basement," he stated simply, his words garnering the attention of the others on the roof and stilling Thor's babbling tongue.

Noting the blue grey eyes that had watched him during his magical venture with curiosity and an analyzing eye, Loki wordlessly turned on his heel and started towards the stairs. A beat of silence passed between the gathered group before, one by one, they followed the trickster.

As they tread down the stairs, the entire stairwell remained silent sans the footsteps that echoed throughout. A moment later, Loki swore he heard someone whisper, "Race ya." Before he could even begin to imagine whose voice it had been, metal slammed against metal and two black clad forms were suddenly jumping quickly and violently down the stairwell.

Another moment passed before everyone else decided to join in on the spontaneous game.

Clinging to the railing as everyone else raced past him, Loki rolled his eyes, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. Blowing out a low breath, he closed his eyes and once again let reality shift around him.

Oh, how he had missed being able to teleport.

In a second, he stood in the basement of the tower, several floors below. It was less of a basement, and more of a large garage for several cars that were all labeled with 'Stark' and a number. It was dimly lit, but he suspected it wouldn't be like that for long with the way the others were barreling down towards it.

Instead of waiting idly by, Loki walked to the wall closest to him, running a hand across the concrete with green sparks jumping from his fingertips every now and again. Emerald eyes roved across the dull grey, searching for something that would spark the thrum against his chest.

Light flooded the room, followed closely by one lithe spy and an archer arguing over who had reached the floor first. It was a minute or two before anyone else reached the basement.

"What're we looking for?" Clint asked, blue grey eyes roving over the cement walls.

"Cracks," Loki stated simply. "Or anything that looks as if it doesn't belong."

The archer nodded and muttered something to the group behind him that quickly filtered in. They spread out, everyone scanning the grey walls for anything out of the ordinary. The trickster traced a discoloration in the walls, concentration in his eyes. Vaguely, he could hear the echoing footsteps of his companions as they tread against the cement. Quiet conversation filtered throughout the room from those who had decided to search the walls in pairs.

His magic thrummed against his chest, still humming achingly against the burns. It was little more than uncomfortable at this point, thankfully. It remained neutral, neither flaring nor calming.

A sharp gasp of pain jerked his attention upwards to where Clint was violently shaking his hand as if it had been burned, hissing in annoyance more than pain.

Spying the vague purple lines snaking across the archer's palm, Loki straightened and strode over to his side. At his movement, companied with Clint's yelp of pain, did the others slowly file towards that section of the wall.

When he reached the archer's side, he wordlessly held out his hand, murmuring, "What did you find?"

Eyeing the offered hand suspiciously, but, having seen the violet veins as well, Clint clapped his hand into Loki's as he answered, "There was a crack, but when I touched it, it electrocuted my hand."

"Why would it do that?" Steve wondered aloud as he came to a stop beside the gathering group.

"It isn't normal," Thor answered, though he seemed unsure himself.

Loki remained silent, watching the receding web of purple on the archer's hand with a scrutinizing eye. Convinced it was little more than an instinctual reaction, he let it fall and turned to the thin, long crack that marred the east wall in the garage.

Silently and wordlessly, he stooped down to it and tentatively touched a fingertip to its surface. A spark of electricity jumped from the fissure to his hand and he instinctively pulled away, cringing at the pain circulating through his hand now. Noting that there were no green lines spider-webbing across his skin, unlike Clint, he flicked his wrist and surrounded his hand in a soft green aura.

Again, he reached out to it, ignoring the soft conversation behind him from his companions. This time, no pain sparked against his fingertips as he pressed them against the crack. His emerald eyes grew foggy as he searched through the fissure, hunting for where it opened on the other side.

A trail of green twisted and turned as it hurtled through an expansive ebony plane separate from reality. It followed the path to the point on the other side of the crack. When it connected, he jerked aside, eyes once again vivid with color.

"This crack is not a break in the structure of your building, Stark," he spoke plainly, still stooping to be eye to eye with the fissure. "It is a gateway between the realms."

"I'm sorry, a what?" Tony asked in bewilderment. "I have an Einstein Rosen Bridge in my basement?"

"No," the trickster answered quickly. His voice grew quieter, "This is very, very different…"

Straightening, he turned back to the group. "This gateway leads to Asgard, but the only times I've ever travelled through these paths was with myself. There is no possible way for me to keep it open long enough to transport so many."

Melancholy settled around them as the new information sunk in. "If Heimdall cannot open the Bifrost, then danger lies on the other side."

A beat of silence passed before a voice spoke up, "How many can you take?"

Tilting his head upward in thought, Loki bit his tongue, "Four safely, five not so safely, including myself."

No one spoke for a minute as they each pondered within themselves whether or not the risk was worth taking. Sure, they were willing to aid the trickster, but at what cost? Jane most of all deflated at the news, knowing her beau would not be willing to take her into danger.

"I'll go."

Loki blinked in surprise, unsure if he had heard the archer correctly. After all he'd done to him, he was still willing to stand by his side in a defense against the very actions to which the assassin had been a victim.

Natasha linked hands with her partner, eyes ablaze. "If he goes, I'm going," she smirked good naturedly. "Someone has to make sure he doesn't kill himself."

Clint scoffed at the idea, but did not deny it in any form.

"Why don't you just stay here?" Bruce asked quietly, as they turned back to the gateway. "You could just wait until the gatekeeper can open the Bifrost, can't you?"

"At this point," Loki began, "If there is trouble in Asgard it would only serve beneficial for me to come and aid them."

The scientist nodded in understanding, nudging the billionaire next to him and muttering something in his ear. Tony shook his head in negation responding with a quiet murmur to which Loki only caught the words, "power," and, "bridge."

Sapphire eyes locked with emerald and the thunderer nodded wordlessly. Taking a deep breath, Loki set his palm against the crack and let his magic filter into it, creating an intricate web of green veins that crawled across the cement wall. The crack itself brightened from a dingy dark grey characteristic of a normal fissure, into hot, burning white light the spread across the green lines.

The group, backpedalled at the light, shielding their eyes from the bright heat. Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Loki all stood directly before it, though the former three had to turn their sight away from it. A loud, piercing ring echoed throughout the room, shrill and grating.

Slowly, the light began to split, revealing what looked like the expanse of space. Stars and planets shined from within the ebony, glowing with vivid color. Loki opened his eyes again, breathing slightly quicker than before. Without another word, he pushed against the portal and walked through, his companions following short behind.

* * *

Nick Fury watched the hacked security camera from within the Helicarrier. Though indifference was what his expression betrayed, his eye shone with something far different, something far more deadly.

That vile trickster had the nerve to steal away with his two best agents to who-knows-where and their fellow Avengers had done nothing to stop it. Oh, how he wished the stupid camera had sound.

The portal had already closed with a bright flash. It was too late to stop them, now. He could only hope Thor had enough sense to keep a watchful eye over the duo until they returned. There seemed nothing more he could do, but give the other Avengers a piece of his mind for letting them go.

But another thought struck him, something that would benefit them far more than chewing out the three Avengers left behind.

"Agent Hill," he barked, turning away from the screen to the only other occupant in the room. She looked up at her name and nodded once. "How far along is Project: Ragnarok?"

"About eighty-seven percent, sir," was her obedient reply as she scrolled through schematics on her iPad.

The director nodded once to himself and disabled the camera feed.

"See to it that it is completed as soon as you are able," he said stoically. "We don't know when, or if, he will return."

"Yes, sir," Hill replied before exiting the room.

Fury was left alone in the room as the door swung closed, leaving it shrouded in shadow sans the faint lights on the machines. He reached a hand out, tracing the binding of a children's book entitled, _Norse Mythology._

"If any of this is true," he muttered to himself, stowing the book in his trench coat, "then we will be ready for you, _trickster_."

* * *

**To be continued in:**

**Ivory**

* * *

I**'m sorry, I'm so so sorry, but I did just end this fic with a cliffhanger. Please do not hurt me. This chapter was going to be longer, but I decided this was the best place to end it. C:**

**Thanks to:**

_Jester's Pet Oriole, shila1387, Hawkeyefan101, Ynath Esrith, TheNaggingCube, SAMMY REESE, ladygris, Imori, Daughter-of-dreams, chibigirl121, kay, Lastavica, Maia2, Ireland Ranger, NoOne, RogueRecruit, Capitu, Dark Empress V. gforcejedi, PuraStones. Ghost Rider of the Aragon_

**for leaving your feedback throughout this whole thing! I really appreciate all of you guys! 3**

**Thanks for sticking around! I'll see you guys next time! **

**~Leviathina**


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